Ben
by M. Sherlock
Summary: In the first weeks of his exile, Obi-Wan watches over Anakin's son from a distance, while trying to keep the inhabitants of a small Tatooine village at arm's length - particularly, a burdened, force-sensitive young lady. With her comes an underlying degree of uncertainty, as well as difficulties he isn't sure he is ready to challenge as a man; much less, as a Jedi. (On hold)
1. Introduction

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

* * *

He was going to die in this desert, he was sure.

Tatooine held no promises for foreigners besides the likelihood of starvation, dehydration, and heat exhaustion. The desert wasteland inhabitants hopefully entitled a planet was nothing more than a broiling pot of despair, sand, and desolation – how one managed to survive in such a place was a thought; why one _stayed_ on world was so far beyond his comprehension that it was unfathomable.

He'd been here three weeks; three long, miserable weeks since leaving Coruscant. In these three weeks, Obi-Wan Kenobi rationalized his survival and realized, that even in a simplistic lifestyle like that of the Jedi, he'd been comfortable and fortunate. Having much more than others and taken for granted most commonalities that here would've been luxuries, he had not realized how posh his lifestyle had been, even when having nothing of his own on a civilized, industrialized planet.

After all that had happened on Coruscant with Order 66 and the destruction of the Temple, he'd fled off-world with Padmé and Bail, desperate and beyond himself. The events had tossed Padmé into an early labor – the thought of her still, lifeless, serene body sent a child down his spine and swirled grief around his senses. All that was left of the sweet Senator was her memory and her children – both which he'd seen to to the best of his abilities.

Which had brought him to Tatooine – the older son; Luke, he'd placed with a barren young couple of moisture farmers, desperate for a child themselves and who promised a humble, true upbringing which Padmé would have desired. Organa had taken the girl, Leia, to Alderaan; to raise her in politics and under his watchful eye; to carry on the legacy of her mother, as the Senator would've wanted.

Once he'd placed the infant in the woman's hands in the Tatooine evening, Obi-Wan Kenobi was at a crossroads: either stay and watch over Luke's upbringing, as Yoda had anticipated; or go off world and vanish entirely into time and live out the continuation of his life alone. In that moment as he'd watched the young parents cradle Luke so closely; so thankful for a child, something had spread over him. Something urgent; pleading for him to say, crying out to him. He could not simply abandon Anakin's child, no matter how fallen his padawan was – he could not let Luke go without protection. Yoda had said he was chosen; chosen to replace Anakin and restore balance, to do what his father could not.

No – Obi-Wan could not abandon the future of the Jedi.

And now it had been three weeks. He had not eaten decently, nor had he had a proper change of clothes or a night sleep since his arrival. He'd traded the beast and the supplies within his first week for enough food to last him until now. Whatever clothing he'd brought with him he'd sold for water and sleep – the only personal belongings he still possessed was his Coruscanti cloak and lightsaber, tucked deep within his waist belt and in the darkness of secrecy.

To lay low he'd changed his name to the public to simply, "Ben". However, alive to him was still Obi-Wan Kenobi, though in the hidden places of his heart and mind. Locals didn't know the name Kenobi this far from Coruscant, as he'd never spent much time on Tatooine while being on the Council. For the most part he was another off-worlder, who'd foolishly chosen the desert world as a place to restart the life so long ago abandoned. To him, however, the story was different – but, that did not matter.

Today marked the third week of his arrival on Tatooine. It was a similar day, as they seemed to blend together in the unbearable heat and dryness and arid climate; hot and foreign to his city-acclimated body. He consistently sweated and thirsted, and he was sure he was on the outer verge of dehydration.

The small village was quaint and populated, not lacking in basic supplies by any means; but, just simply, small. There were about a hundred souls which populated Talba; mostly nomadic farmers that made their way around the region to move livestock and return for basic supplies and more animals. What populated the village were women and children, mostly; some hooligans and other petty criminals.

Talba was not far from the family he'd placed Luke with, roughly two or three miles to the East. Obi-Wan figured this was the outpost they gathered supplies from. The Toshi Station was six more miles West; a bigger hub for technology and luxury, but farther into the desert and much too far to travel on foot. Lacking currency and transportation kept Obi-Wan here in Talba, where he moved through the shadows of the alleys. He refused to steal, so he worked to eat and worked to sleep for a man called Issik, who ran Talba's largest marketplace and oversaw the commerce and entrepreneurship of the village's business.

"Ben!"

The man's voice called to him across the sandy street of the village, which was just beginning to stir in the early morning, already blistering with heat and heavy. Obi-Wan had barely just risen himself, and staggered out of the back room of Issik's shop, his feet heavily and body sore.

He yawned, stretched his arms over his head, and plodded across the shop towards the front room where Issik kept his books and did most of his personal business. The shop was dark as the sun hadn't fully risen yet, his shadow bouncing over shelves and merchandise as light cascaded in through the bottom of the door and other gaps in the architecture. He stopped in the doorway, watching Issik mark papers, as he was not fortunate to do his business on datapads and with technology.

"You called?" As if Issik had doubted his presence, he reassured the man. He leaned against the doorpost and crossed his arms in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankles as well.

"Yeah, I did," the man gave him a quick, sly smile and shuffled the papers through his hands. "Will you be staying another night?" He posed the same question every morning, and Obi-Wan gave him the same answer, as he had no other.

"Of course. What do you need me to do today?"

The man nodded, looking genuinely pleased, as usual. He tucked whatever papers he'd been working on under his arm and gestured at the door, moving around the desk quickly. "Come, I'll show you." They moved out of his office room and across the store, towards the back door again, bypassing the room Obi-Wan slept and kept his things in. "It's a big job, but I have every confidence in you, my friend."

Obi-Wan chuckled, "Nothing is too big if approached in small ways," he retorted. This caused Issik to laugh as he opened the back door, revealing the back alley. Obi-Wan was familiar with the sight – Issik did not like him to go in and out the front of the store, so he'd become quite acquainted with the back alley entrance.

Issik's building was adjacent to the village's wall, so it was the end of the back streets which ran along the village's wall – a clever place to put his merchandise, so cleverly locked in heavy boxes and crates, to discourage thieves and miscreants to keep from stealing it. Despite the security of crates, there were still attempts at thievery, which Obi-Wan drove off due to his close proximity to the door. It was a poor but necessary arrangement, for the moment.

"As you know, I've been haggling with Talor about letting me rent one of his empty stalls at the livery," Issik stepped into the alleyway, which was significantly cooler than the inside of the shop. The fresh air blasted Obi-Wan's senses and he breathed deeply, crossing his arms in front of him and nodding to confirm his understanding.

"Of course. Has Talor relented?"

The man smiled, "Naturally – who could resist such an offer? He has consented to letting me rent a stall for a decent amount of credits every month," he looked to the supplies in the alley corner, "Which is far cheaper than constantly having to worry about driving off thieves, as you well know. There is no price for peace of mind, to be sure."

Obi-Wan gave the man a small smile, "Indeed." He was familiar with the ideal, but it seemed such a mystery and long-forgotten memory after all that had transpired. His world of peace had crumbled, leaving him in chaos and misery – peace was, at this point, an unattainable dream, and he was in reality.

"So, my friend," he clapped a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, "I am entrusting my goods to your care, to see them to Talor's building. It will take you a great while, but it is necessary. You are much younger and much stronger than I am," he winked and nudged Obi-Wan's ribs with his elbows as if to make the situation comical, "Do you think it is something you can see to?"

Obi-Wan nodded, "Of course. I will go see Talor and discuss transportation of the materialsand make myself acquainted with the space."

Issik's face illuminated in a bright smile, his eyes sparkling with relief and exuberant joy. "Excellent, Ben! See to this properly, and there may be something extra in it for you." He winked again and turned from the back alley, to head back into the store. "I will check on you this afternoon to see how things go," he nodded to Obi-Wan in confirmation, "Good luck."

"Thank you, Issik. All will be well." He began rolling up the sleeve on his tunic and gave the man a confident smirk, "Don't work too hard in there." The man laughed at him, shook his head, and retreated into the store, closing the door behind him. Obi-Wan listened to his whistling a moment as he began preparing the store for business before he turned to the task at hand and set to work.

. . .

"Ahhh, if it isn't my sweet desert flower. Come in, Maridian – tell me, what has your father for me today?"

Maridian Hail stepped fully into the doorway of Talor's livery office as a man slipped by her and nodded to her politely before scouring her body with his eyes. Ignoring him, Maridian made her way towards Talor's desk and unshouldered the satchel she'd been carrying, then reaching to unwind the wrap from her head which was sprinkled with tidbits of sand from her trek across the sands.

Talor's eyes followed her hands, which were bruised and dirty – one wrapped from an incident a few days previous involving a branding iron and an angry Bantha. His eyes went from her hands to her satchel when she draped the wrap over her shoulder and stooped to open the bag. She pulled out the papers with her family's mark in the top corner and riffled through them a moment.

"My father is willing to trade four of his prize Banthas for your land," she slapped the paper down in front of him, her unwrapped hand still firmly placed on top, "He'll add two more males if you give him the oasis spring you've been keeping secret from the other herdsmen; you know, the one south of the Morovian Pass?" The look of astonishment that pulled on his face caused the corner of her lips to upturn in a smile, " _And_ he will consider the other proposition."

The man gave her a sly smile and sat back in his chair, not taking his eyes from her. Talor Jukkuun was the prize herdsmen of Talba's people, owning the only livery on the Greeken Paths, which was the most traveled of the herding routes this far from Toshi and Mos Eisley. He had direct contacts in Mos Eisley for supplies and meat, as well as moisture – a powerful man in Talba, to be certain. A powerful – and unmarried – man.

Maridian locked stares with him and then quirked a brow, removing her hand from the paper work and straightening from the other side of the desk. She crossed her arms in front of her and cocked a hip, "Well?"

The man laughed and stood up from his chair, a hulking six foot two inches which towered over her own five foot eight frame. While his reputation was a powerful one, it did not match his physical presence – he was at least three hundred pounds of well trimmed muscle, with dark eyes and hair. His skin was colored by the sun and a mixture of tattoos and scars. He was Talba's most eligible bachelor, and the village's prize. "You amuse me, Maridian. Your strength beguiles me. I will take your father's four Bantha's in payment for the land," he bent and scribbled his name on the paper, then folded it and handed it to her, "and I will think on the oasis. Wouldn't seem like a fair trade – for your father," his smile revealed white teeth and a glimmer in his eye Maridian wasn't sure about.

She plucked the paper from his hand, "He wouldn't consider it if it wasn't a fair trade," her voice trailed as she looked away and stooped to grab the satchel, slinging it over her shoulder. "I will bring the Bantha's by Friday. Expect them."

He chuckled, "As you say, my dear. Water your mount around the back and see to it that Manashe gives you ample supplies for your journey home. Perhaps she has some salve for your hand."

Maridian nodded and turned from him, removing the wrap from her shoulder and folding it in her hands as she left. She tucked it into her waist-belt She took in the village's activity from Talor's front porch before stepping down the stairs – nothing too unusual; street merchants selling wares and children playing in the streets. It was quiet this afternoon, as the heat of the day was heavy and did not call for such rigorous activity.

She left Talor's porch and met her mount, a young Eopie saddled lightly with fraying leather reigns. Maridian patted the animal's back and unwound the reigns from the porch's supporting beam, then clicked her tongue to lead the animal through the alley to the back of the livery. She rounded the corner and found it deserted – Manashe was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. The old woman usually guarded the pump with her very life.

She looked down the alley, which was more of a backstreet – Talba had its main course of travel for residents and citizens, but the back alleys were streets where most of the good trade was born. It ran adjacent with the village's wall, so the backdoors of the merchants and other vendors viewed nothing but the fortuity of the village. The alley streets were dirty and unkept, but in the shade and cool – the shadow from the wall and the buildings provided smooth, cool sands and kept the water pump of Talor's shop wet and somewhat cool.

Maridian noticed most of the doors to the alley merchants were closed – not usual for this time of day. However, there was movement down the way, in the corner – she recognized the area to be Issik's property, which was loaded with locked chests of the most rumored goods in the village. Something stirred inside her – something she was not unfamiliar with; a feeling that was, at this point in her life, not uncommon or foreign. She studied the movement, noticing it was a man moving supplies out of Issik's corner. Not surprising, for Issik had many, many contacts as the trade overseer for the village. While Talor knew livestock, Issik knew wares and other goods. She dismissed the feeling.

The beasts in the livestock building, which was adjacent about 100 yards from Talor's office, moaned longingly. Maridian noticed they were male Eopie's, and she ignored them as they pawed the earth for release from their stalls. This didn't shock her when Luna, her own beast, skitted and shifted uncomfortable beside her – it was breeding season, which drove prices higher and made her father's Bantha's exceptionally coveted on the trade market. It was no surprise to her that Talor had jumped on her father's deal – her father was known for the prizest of Banthas, and they were expensive during breeding season and would make for an excellent breeding season.

Maridian ignored the movement in Issik's corner – he always had people working for him, so it wasn't unusual to see someone in his back alley. Instead, she called out for Manashe . "Manashe? It's Maridian – I was wondering if –"

Suddenly, Luna screeched and roared a nasally call of alarm as a figure charged from around the livery's corner. He came across the 100 yards so quickly Maridian had no time to react – she dropped the reigns and backpedaled so quickly she hit the watering pump hard. Pain shot up her shoulders and into the base of her neck as the figure came at her. He was big and thick, wearing a wrap, which made it difficult to identify anything but his eyes.

His strides were big and he lunged for her arm, but she rolled away from the pump quickly and pushed herself up. Her feet skidded through the sands, but she came around quickly to meet his next attack with a handful of sand and tossed it at him. He growled, cried out, and began rubbing at his eyes as she shot past him, pushing him aside and running for Luna's reigns. Maridian was about to grab them when a thick arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. A calloused hand clapped over her mouth, and the man began dragging her back towards shadows of the livery where he'd come.

She fought him, thrashing wildly, trying to free her arms to get a blow to his side. But, this man was accomplished, and had her pinned so tightly against him that she couldn't have freed herself it she'd tried. His hand clamped tighter around her mouth and he grabbed her wrist while still holding her against him, then hissed in her ear darkly " Say one word and I'll kill you – understand?"

Her eyes widened and she swallowed thickly, him pushing her away from her body roughly. He forced her onto the sandy ground, pinned her arms with his knees, and took her head wrap from her belt and stuffed it into her mouth. She writhed and arched her back and kicked her feet, his immense weight sending burning, crushing pain up her arms and into her spine. Rage boiled within her and the feeling returned, that strange sense she'd accustomed herself to swirled around her stomach. It felt as if a scream was embedded within her gut and was pulling for release – as if she were screaming internally, but no noise left her throat.

She pleaded in her mind for Talor, praying he would come out the back entrance and rescue her from this, and her eyes kept moving around the man, who was doing his best to restrain her; towards the building. No one came, Luna only wandering towards the locked stalls of the male Eopies. Maridian thrashed and kicked her feet in the sand, but it did nothing as her core was pinned by the massive weight of this attacker. Tears of rage and panic stung her eyes as his hands roughly ran down her sides, searching for the hem of her clothing. The only thing running through her brain was the shame that would follow her forever; Talor's refusal of her dowry; her family's downfall – the death of her father, her sisters being sold into slavery.

There was a dark, guttural chuckle before a sharp, haggard tear of cloth.

. . .

Obi-Wan had felt the jarring and strong shift in the Force, which had caused him to turn around and notice the figure at the end of the back alley street, and had identified it as a younger woman. She was a traveler off the sands with a female Eopie, if he had interpreted her garb correctly; come to water at Talor's pump – he reasoned she must've been a beautiful woman to find such favor with Talor, for Talor didn't allow such privileges with everyone and anyone. And certainly not plain or homely individuals – it surprised him that she was travelling alone, especially in Talba; as this village wasn't known as a safe place for wandering ladies to travel unescorted.

What had surprised him even more than her lack of escort was the fact that the Force pulled him towards her – it was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that almost drove him to the point of pain; strong, sudden, urging. He regretted the feeling almost instantaneously – usually it always meant, in such waves and strength, that there was trouble, and trouble was what he didn't need.

He had wiped his brow and watched her a moment as she looked around the back of Talor's shop – she didn't know Manashe had left suddenly for whatever purpose and was not around. Sweat trickled down his temple from his hair, now slick with perspiration, as she looked around cautiously, leading the beast carefully. He blinked when she caught sight of him, and he turned to her when he noticed she had taken note of him and was watching.

He hefted a crate, feeling the pull and pain in his leg muscles, his fingers slick and slippery with sweat. He'd rubbed sand through his fingers to give him traction, and felt his boots shift in the sand; felt exhaustion pull his nerves tighter and tighter. He was starving and in desperate need of bath and change of clothing, but would find no relief – he had not yet asked Issik for use of commodities, instead just cooled himself and cleaned at the pump a few doors down the back alley.

Obi-Wan ignored the woman as he moved the box towards the hover-craft, sliding it into place with the others he'd already loaded, when a pang of warning shot through his stomach and the Force almost knocked him to his knees; so hard, in fact, he staggered backwards a few steps. IT seemed to cry out to him, this shift – or, it was _crying_ out to him, alerting him, stirring his awareness. Stirring his sense of honor and diplomacy.

 _The girl._

He spun back around, the sands shifting beneath his boots, and stopped short, jarring back in surprise. He watched as the girl threw a handful of sand at a tall, hulking man dressed in black. The man staggered backwards, swiping at his face, and she shoved him away and ran for the animal, reaching for the reigns –

-not before the man had recovered, pivoted, and wrapped a hugely thick arm around her waist, The other wrapped around her front, obviously to cover her mouth, and he began dragging her through the sands, towards Talor's livery building. Alarm punched Obi-Wan in the gut and he did not think twice before taking off across the sands towards the scene.

His eyes were forever cemented on the man as he drug the woman into the shadows and forced her to the floor. The man's twitching and struggling frame indicated she was fighting back to the best of her ability; he pushed himself harder across the sands, his heart racing; and the man pinned himself on top of the woman. There were no sounds or cries, so he assumed she was gagged; the Force was urging, pushing, jarring him forward, almost forcing him through the air. His breath was heavy and his lungs burning, his mouth dry and hot – this could ruin everything, he told himself; he couldn't – wouldn't – use the Force. Could not, under any circumstances.

The woman writhed in the sand, kicking her feet, unable to move her upper body due to the man's weight. Obi-Wan could see the man's hands roaming, and he was almost there when he heard the deep, guttural chuckle and a tear of clothing. His heart jumped into his throat, his stomach exploded with rage, and he felt his body tense in reaction – it was over, right here. He was losing his ability to be calm –

-without thought, he slid to a stop in the sands, swiftly shifted his weight to his right leg and sharply landed his left foot in-between the man's shoulder blades. The girl screamed through the gag, writhing in panic, as the man fell on top of her and rolled off. As soon as the weight had lifted the girl was backpedaling on her elbows away from the scene, the attacker facing Obi-Wan with a startled and unprepared look in his eyes.

Obi-Wan poised himself, careful not to indicate too much training, and balled his fists tightly. He was sweating bullets now, his clothes all but dripping, droplets dancing down his face from his hair and beard. The girl was no up and pulled the gag from her mouth, tossing it aside. To his surprise, she moved towards him, the man watching, and turned to face her attacker, arms brought up and fists balled tightly. She had a level look in her eye and his awareness piqued – the Force was rushing through him now, speaking to him, sensing him – who was this woman -?

Without warning, the woman roared and leaped towards the man, her foot landing right in his jaw, sending him flying backwards in the sand in an elegantly precise kick – at this, his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. The woman did a serious of blocks as the man had risen and threw multiple strikes at her, but failed; she instead landing a strong punch to his nose and send him reeling back again.

At this point he intervened, moving past her and landed another blow to the man's temple. He missed, the man instead slamming his fist into Obi-Wan's nose. He felt something pop, then realized he'd reeled back a few steps, dazed. In rage, he swung around and roundhoused, his boot landing the man in the temple.

This time the attacker did not move, instead drooped into the sand unconscious. The only sounds were the waning moan of the Eopie's in the stalls and her haggard breathing, his own matched with heavy breaths. He turned to look at her and then reached up to touch his nose, which erupted in a fire of pain as he felt the sticky, warm blood run down his fingers. He winced.

"Hold on," she quickly turned from him and jogged through the sand around the corner, and returned a few moments later with a cloth and canteen. She unscrewed the lid, and doused the rag with water. Droplets ran down her fingers and she approached him, placing the cloth against his nose, "this will numb it." He nodded and took the cloth from her and pulled it away, it stained with sharp, red blotches of his blood.

"Thank you," he cleared his throat and pressed the cloth back to his nose. He focused his attention on her as she screwed the lid back on the canteen. He noticed one of her hands was wrapped, the other bruised and sporting cuts and callouses. What was left of her clothes wasn't much, as it was hanging in torn shreds around her midriff. "Are you -?"

"I'm fine," she interjected, waving away the thought as she reached for a hanging piece of her shirt, "He didn't get far," she looked up at him and gave him a confused look, "Who are you?" She did not waste time with formalities – neither did her eyes; they were demanding and inquisitive as they reached inside his own, which startled him only slightly.

"I'm Ben," he gestured towards Issik's shop with a wave of his hand, "Issik's help, at the moment." His speech was nasally with the cloth pressed against his nose, which sounded humorous, he imagined. The small smile playing at her lips told him it was funny, and he gestured to her, "And you?"

She extended a hand, "Maridian Hail," he shook it, noticing her firm grip and rough hands – but, still feminine hands nonetheless. He nodded at the name – he knew the name Hail; as in Bartholomew Hail, the rancher just outside of Talba. He owned much of the sands around the area and was known for his prize Bantha's – and known for his relationship with Talor.

"Bartholomew Hail's daughter," she looked much too young to be his wife, he presumed. Much too young, indeed. She couldn't have been more than 21 or 22, at least from what he could tell by her face and eyes, which was difficult given the disarray and dirt and sand.

She nodded, "You know my father."

He shook his head no, "Just the name and the reputation."

She nodded, smiled, and stepped back, "Let me get you something," she gestured over her shoulder back towards the pump, "Please." He nodded and followed her, and she approached the beast and grabbed the reigns, opening one of the saddle bags before leading the animal back towards the water pump. It was another canteen, and she draped the animal's reigns over the back porch rail and set to work on the pump, initiating the buttons and commands.

He seated himself on the bottom step of the porch, "You had better get someone to tend to that man," he pulled the cloth away, the coolness of it soothing his nose, "before he gets any more ideas."

She nodded, "Talor will deal with him," she collected the water from the pump and approached him, handing him the sweating, cold canteen. Deep from beneath the sands, the water was fresh and cold; inviting. He set the rag on the step beside him and downed a strong, long gulp of the water. She moved past him and up the steps, "Give me a second. I'll be right back."

Nodding, he said nothing as she disappeared into the back door, leaving him, the beast, and the unconscious man over behind the livery. The animal's dumb eyes watched him wet the cloth and press it against the back of his neck, the cool water soothing Obi-Wan's muscles, for the moment. There was movement in the building, then vibrations and voices.

"What? Who attacked you?"

"Talor, it's nothing –"

"It isn't nothing, Maridian!" The door to the building swung open and Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder – the hulking business man glared at him, tromped down the step loudly, and moved towards the livery. He stopped short when he breeched the building and whipped around, to face them from a distance. Maridian was leaning against the porch post, arms crossed in front of her.

"He's…unconscious," Talor approached them, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. He frowned at Obi-Wan and looked to the woman, "And this man rescued you?"

She nodded, "Yes. He knocked the man unconscious," she gave him a small smile, "Without him, I'd be – "

"Don't even speak such a thing," Talor frowned and reached for her hand, then gently placed a kiss on her knuckles. "I will have someone come for the man immediately." Obi-Wan suddenly felt as if he'd taken too much liberty in his study of the girl – she had been beautiful, he'd noticed it from the very beginning, but now he had regretted his gazes. The man turned to him suddenly and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "And you, my good man – you are?"

"Ben," Obi-Wan offered him his hand, "Ben Kenobi. I am working for Issik,"

The man nodded, "Ah, Issik! He mentioned you – you are bringing supplies to one of the stalls this afternoon?" He rubbed the goatee on his chin and smiled, "Though it would appear you've busied yourself with rescuing my desert flower instead," his eyes leveled on Maridian; a look of devotion and adoration flooding his eyes, "And I must thank you. You have prevented a great catastrophe – you have my honor and my deepest gratitude."

Obi-Wan nodded and folded the cloth in his hands, looking over his shoulder to the woman, Maridian, who was smiling at him softly. "It was my duty – any gentleman would have done the same."

Talor laugh was abrupt and most disheartening to him, "The same – my good man! No one in Talba would have done such a thing!" He shook his head and grabbed Obi-Wan's arm, helping him to his feet quickly, "Issik was right – you are not from here. Come," he gestured to Obi-Wan and scanned him over, "For your heroics I will see that you have new clothes, a decent meal, and a bath. Issik has told me you do not have much aside from what's on your back right this moment. "

Obi-Wan nodded, "Issik is an observant man,"

Talor chuckled again, "Of course he is – and a cheap one, too, I might add." He moved up the steps and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow, then stopped before Maridian. He grabbed her shoulders, "You are sure you are alright? I wouldn't think of letting you travel home after such an ordeal – I will send a holocall to your father immediately and tell him you will stay with Manashe for the night and return home at first light, escorted."

Maridian nodded and looked away, shifting her gaze to Obi-Wan for just a moment before looking back at Talor, "I am all right, Talor. Don't worry." She patted his shoulder, "I will stay the night, if you insist. It is too late to travel anyway ."

He nodded, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her forehead. "Of course. Stable your mount and come inside, my dear." He released her and turned to Obi-Wan, waving him inside. "Come, Ben. I may have something for you." He scanned Obi-Wan, gave him a curious look, and nodded. "Yes. Something indeed."

Obi-Wan followed him into the house, and stopped to watch the woman move down the stairs and lead the Eopie away across the sands and around the corner of the livery.


	2. Chapter One

_Part One: The Village  
_

* * *

Maridian stabled her eopie in her own separate stall, away from the calls and moanings of the other desperate males. After feeding a palmful of grain to the animal and unsaddling her for the evening, she patted the animal's neck softly, cooing to the beast as it nuzzled grain from a hanging feed bag.

She barely heard the few men Talor had called come and retrieve her attack from behind the stables. They came, hiked up the man in the arms, and left without a word of concern. Not unusual. Maridian watched from the stall as they walked by, nodding to her politely, and didn't notice Luna had begun nibbling on the straggling hem of her now disheveled shirt. She swatted the animal's nose away lightly and chuckled.

"Yes, I know," she retorted to the beast, "When am I never a mess? Have a good night my dear Luna. I shall come for you in the morning." The animal paid her no mind and stuck her nose back into the feed bag, munching on the grains.

Maridian left and locked the stall of the stable before marching back towards Talor's back porch. He had taken the stranger back inside and she could hear his strong, clear voice towards the front of his office. Talor lived upstairs in a modest apartment, though he could afford better, and his livery offices were below. She hurried up the back porch steps, grabbed for the door and suddenly reeled back when Manashe was standing on the other side, in her arms a neat, folded stack of clothing.

"My dear, my dear! I heard of your ordeal. I am so sorry I was not around, but my husband…" her voice trailed when Maridian waved a hand in front of her as if to make the thought disappear. She touched the old woman's shoulder with her wrapped hand.

"There is no need to apologize," she inserted quickly, "I am fine, now thanks to my savior," she looked past Manashe into the depths of the office, "I would assume those clothes are for me?" She looked down at the woman's hands.

The old woman nodded quickly, "Yes, yes. Talor had them sent over for you from Issik's. Most lovely they are – such quality!"

Maridian went to accept them from the woman, but she jerked back quickly. "Oh, no my dear. I have instructions to see to your dressing and preparations for dinner." Maridian's brow crinkled at this, Manashe reading into it quickly. "Talor's orders, after all."

Maridian sighed, her shoulders slumping forward a bit. She suddenly felt the exhaustion and tension in them, but ignored the aches. They were not new feelings to her body and while unwelcomed, were a fact of life – at least for her. "Alright then. Let's so to it."

Beaming, the elderly woman spun around quickly and called into the belly of the offices, "Mr. Jukkuun," she called, her voice scratchy, "I am taking Ms. Hail upstairs now, should you need something!"

"Of course, Manashe!"

The old woman nodded once, firmly, as if to confirm the arrangements to no one in particular. She then moved towards the stairs, Maridian following slowly behind. She climbed the stairs heavily, exhaustion pulling at her shoulders. Only once at the top of the stairs and beckoned into Talor's bedchamber did she relax slightly. Manashe set the clothing on the bed, moved to the door, and closed it quickly. Then, whipping around, she put her hands on her hip and then motioned at Maridian, up and down with a hand.

"Hurry up now, child!" She beckoned, then moved towards the bed. She shook out what looked like a tunic, but Maridian could not tell just by looking at the garment. What she could tell, however, was that it was a light cream color with a red and gold printed waistband. "How marvelous. Simply beautiful!"

Maridian sighed, shook her head, and lifted what was left of her haggard shirt over her head.

* * *

Talor slapped the top on the fine, smooth desk sitting in the middle of his office room. Without thought, he leaned against it, crossed his arms over his chest, and then raised a thumb and gestured to the floor above them.

"Manashe has a bath drawn for you upstairs," he scanned Obi-Wan with his eyes, "I also had Issik send over some clothes for you as well."

Overwhelmed by the man's gratitude, Obi-Wan put up his hands, "Really, there is no need for –"

"Of course there is," the man's forehead furrowed into a wrinkled state, "You have done a great deed for me today, saving Maridian's life. You do not know the tragedy which would have ensued if she had been…violated." He stood now, stepped towards Obi-Wan, and clapped a strong hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan tried not to sway under its force, "The least I can do is do right by you with proper clothing, a bath, and a decent meal."

Obi-Wan sighed, "It is most kind of you," he noticed the man's eyes were engaging and intriguing, deep with mystery. Obi-Wan got the uneasy feeling in his stomach that he may be hiding something, but that wasn't unusual. He'd been suspicious of everyone since everything had transpired.

"Don't mention it," Talor waved the thought away, "Let me take you upstairs." He waved Obi-Wan out of the room and towards the staircase. "You said your name was Kenobi," he changed the conversation, and Obi-Wan winced. He probably should not have given his last name – he did not know the consequences of such actions. _Too soon too late,_ he reasoned. "Any relation to the Kenobi's on the northern paths of Mos Eisley?"

Obi-Wan doubted he was related to anyone from this neck of space, "Not that I am aware of, no."

They began taking the stairs, "Thought I would ask. Good people." They moved past the first door on the right, where activity buzzed within. Talor gave him a wiggle of his eyebrows and jerked a thumb towards the door, "To be a fly on the wall, eh?"

Obi-Wan raised his brows in surprise at such a statement, "I hardly think that –"

Talor interrupted his objection, "It's good to have imagination." He waved off the door and moved down the hallway, taking a quick left. He stopped at the first door on the right and beat it with a hand. "Here we are. Bath's all ready. Take your time. Clothes should be in there too."

Obi-Wan nodded, and there was s sudden _thud_ down the hallway, towards the first door they'd stopped at. It drew both their attentions. "Everything all right in there, ladies?" Talor's booming voice rattled the walls, and Obi-Wan's ears.

"We're fine!" the woman's call came, "Just fine!"

Talor's deep throated chuckle triggered a small smile from Obi-Wan, "Like I said, a fly on the wall." He opened the door. "Come downstairs once your done and we'll talk about dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starved half to death."

Considering the amount of muscle on the man's body, Obi-Wan doubted the statement. He nodded once. "Will do." He stepped into the doorway of the room, and Talor abruptly closed the door. Obi-Wan looked around the spotlessly clean wash room and began undoing his waist-belt, when Talor called out.

"Be careful in there, Kenobi – the water's hot!"

* * *

It was forty-five minutes before Manashe had finished with Maridian's hair – much too much work for just a dinner gathering, she had concluded. But, given the way the woman told such stories and smiled her way through the process, Maridian had concluded that it was reminiscent for the old woman. She enjoyed to hear such stories, anyway.

The clothing Talor had sent over was as Manashe had said – exquisite and of fine quality. It was a fitted, cream-colored light material with the printed waistband which tied off behind her back and rested right beneath her bosom, which tucked perfectly into a pair of deep brow trousers. Her boots, which ran up to her knees, Manashe had shined beautifully. The only downfall to the ensemble was the hideously long angel sleeves, which were trimmed at the hem's with the same print as the waistband; a delicate array of golden vines on scarlet red satin.

A most beautiful arrangement, Maridian reminded herself. Though yet just another way of Talor expressing his vested interest in her – a pang of sadness hit her gut at the thought, but it quickly merged with the thought of her family and their needs, then the pang subsided. If she were to take care of them as they needed, an arranged marriage with Talor was the only way.

As Manashe finished her hair, Maridian could hear the stranger across the hallway bathing and getting dressed. Her mind wandered to him sitting on the back porch, nose bleeding. Ben Kenobi, she thought over and over. A strong, masculine, honorable name. Kenobi. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue, though she didn't say it out loud. She tried to recall his features in her mind, but she realized she had not paid enough attention to remember them. Interesting, she told herself.

Manashe's hands suddenly fell away from her hair, "There! Finished. Most beautiful you are, miss, if you should just take the time to do yourself up more often." The woman's frail hands came to rest on either side of Maridian's chair, which was before Talor's own mirror and makeshift vanity, "Both of those men will not be able to take their eyes off of you."

"Your mouth, Manashe!" Maridian turned in her chair and chuckled at the woman, "This is a simple dinner – I'm afraid you've gone overboard."

"A woman's presence at dinner is never to be overstated," the old woman winked, "And how often is it that you get dressed up beautifully anyway? Never." The woman fingered a curl beside Maridian's face, the elaborate bun on top her head complete with intricate weaves of braiding and pins, "It makes me wonder how you have gone this long with marriage."

Maridian's eyes dropped from the vanity. She didn't want to talk about marriage, especially with Manashe. The woman wouldn't understand. Manashe interrupted her thoughts, "If the men of this village could just see you now, half of them would be at your feet."

Maridian nodded, smiling weakly. "We should go downstairs."

The woman pursed her lips together. "Of course." Then, she backed away from the chair and allowed Maridian to rise. She began tidying the room when Maridian went towards the door and pulled it open, surprised to find Ben already at the top of the stairs. He stopped suddenly at her presence.

"Hello," he said, voice smooth. She could not place his accent, though mesmerizing at it was. She had never heard it before, and she liked it. It fit him, she thought. The feeling in her stomach returned, and it began stirring inside her; pulling again, as if for release. She tried to push it down and ignore it, but it simply wouldn't be ignored.

His eyes scanned over her; but, respectfully she noticed. They lacked the lust she was afraid would be there. Instead they were soft, genuine, and peaceable. "I hardly recognize you." Was all he said, a small smile pinching at the corner of his lips.

She smiled at him, "I don't doubt it. You _have_ only known me for an hour," she stepped towards him and he backed away from the staircase, gesturing for her to go first. He bowed only slightly – she had never seen such manners in Talba. Curious. "And you don't look half bad yourself, Mr. Kenobi, with your hair clean and new clothes."

He chuckled, "Ben, please. And I am most appreciative of Talor's hospitality."

She shrugged a shoulder and began descending, him very closely behind, "It's Talor's way. Don't worry too much about it – he has credits to spare."

He said nothing in return and they moved around the corner towards the main offices of Talor's building. Darkness was beginning to set in, lights already shining outside in other parts of the city. The heaviness of the day's heat began to subside, instead bringing in a cool night's air. Maridian led Ben towards the front of the building and into Talor's office. He looked up from paperwork at them, his eyes cemented on her form.

Whereas Ben's gaze had been honorable and respectful, Talor's was not. It was a lustful as a man's could be, but she noted his attempt to mask it by mannerisms, as he stood and nodded to her. He came around the desk, arms outstretched to her. "A most beautiful desert flower you are, Maridian."

She stepped back from him. _You haven't agreed to marry me yet_. She smiled weakly at him and crossed her arms over her chest, then looked to Ben. Talor sensed her uneasiness and stepped back, then turned to his desk and stalked back to it, a strong gait to his walk.

"So, Ben." He began. Maridian let her eyes flitter closed. She knew that tone. Something inside her sighed, and she felt the feeling return to her stomach. It swirled around frantically, stirring her awareness and peaking her curiosity. It had never been so strong, or stayed so long before. Her throat tightened as Talor turned back around with a stack of paperwork in his hands. She eyed it, and then looked to Ben. "Tell me something."

Ben's brows raised and he lifted his chin, as if now aware and prepared. "That depends on what you ask." Maridian spotted Manashe move down the hallway, stopping at the open door and wiggling a finger for her to come. Maridian nodded, looked between the two men and dropped her gaze before moving towards the door.

Talor chuckled, "Tell me – how do you like working for Issik?"


	3. Chapter Two

Manashe pulled Maridian into the small hallway outside Talor's office just as the question had rolled of the man's tongue.

 _"Tell me – how do you like working for Issik?"_

Not only had the question snatched the air from the room, but it had socked Maridian in the gut. Talor barely knew the man's name much less his background and work ethic – who was he? Where did he come from? Was he a thief? Why was he in _Talba?_ Talba, of all places, was not a place to advance a career – it was a place people came to get away from things, to lose themselves and take up a different life. If you wanted to get lost, Talba was the place to do it. Surely this man was no different.

Maridian was lost in her own thoughts until Manashe's frail hands squeezed her own, jerking her back to reality with the old woman. "Child, my stars – you look as if you've seen a ghost."

Maridian gave the woman a blank stare for only a second before her face contorted into one of those confused, apprehensive looks. "Talor is offering that man a job!" She hissed.

The old woman's eyes sparkled, "Yes, I know! He was looking through his books while you were caring for your animal. Isn't it wonderful? He's so handsome – and look at those shoulders! A well built, strong man, mhm!" She nodded, her wrinkled face practically cracking from her smile, "And kind eyes – yes, yes, a good man! Come, come darling, we must prepare dinner. I already have the strew simmering. We must make bread…"

She released Maridian's hands quickly and shuffled down the hallway, muttering out physical details of the man called Ben. Maridian was shocked by the woman's observations and blatant claims. She, confused, reached up and fiddled with a loose curl hanging from the elaborate bun – this was unlike Talor to jump into any business deals hastily. It had taken her three months to convince him to trade with her father. _Three months._ In the midst of that time her family had practically starved. Now he was jumping head first into a deal.

Business on Talba was tight- knit and reserved: the people here were leery of everything, as resources were few and far between. Each person had a deal running with the next: services for food, assistance for work, money for water. It was a balance that had been going for years, since before her time as a woman. Outsiders earned their way into Talba's business circles – they were not merely handed opportunities.

Not that Maridian _liked_ such a system. She, for one, enjoyed Ben. He seemed like a kind man to be sure; Manashe's observations had been not ill-received. He was strong and well built, at a staggering six feet with auburn colored hair and pale-blue eyes. His accent complimented his features and matched with his somewhat reserved, gentle personality. He seemed pleasurable enough, but he was _still_ an outsider. Still another mouth to feed in Talba. Still another person to bargain with.

And she didn't need any more bargains: she needed credits, and she needed resources. Her father's paralysis had curbed their farm significantly since his accident, and she'd been struggling to pick up the pieces for her and her sisters ever since. Their mother had not been in their lives since Maridian had been seven: she had been taking care of her family since she could speak. She had bargained with almost everyone in Talba: Talor, for land and water; Issik, for clothes and commodities; and others throughout the village. She had debts with people as much as people had debts to her. Her father's business was sinking, and she was at the helm. She had been for some time.

Maridian thought twice about peeking back into the office, so she instead went towards the stairs to help Manashe with the dinner. Her mind drifted to the thought of Ben's presence in Talba: it presented its Benefits and downfalls. She only hoped Talor would give him enough to keep him from her doorstep – she did not need him racking up debts with her as well. Too, she hoped he'd keep his distance – already she had men vying for her hand in marriage, while her father was contemplating an arranged marriage: if she could be married to a rich, steady man; their futures would be set. Her father could get medical care in Anchorhead, and her sisters could go to university. Out of the wastelands of Talba. Maridian didn't like to brag on herself, but she could not afford another suitor knocking on her door or making promises he couldn't keep.

Especially a stranger like Ben Kenobi.

* * *

Obi-Wan stared at the man, who was now settling into his chair, with carefully contemplating eyes.

To say he was shocked by the man's abrupt, unintroduced question was perhaps an understatement. Obi-Wan had not anticipated such an offer, but sensed the man's eager anticipation at his answer. It occurred to Obi-Wan he didn't know anything about this man or his business – really anything about this quiet village – and that he wasn't sure if he even wanted to stay. He'd been merely staggering to survive with Issik; he'd never even paid a mind to _staying._

But, he supposed, he would have to come a decision. If he were to watch over Anakin's son, he might as well do so comfortably. Or, at least; decently. Better to have food in one's stomach and guard the legacy of your friend's offspring than to starve and watch from the grave, Obi-Wan thought. But also he wasn't sure if he would want to risk anyone knowing of the late Obi-Wan Kenobi; great General of the Clone Wars and Master Jedi of the Order. He wasn't sure if he could escape such a name and history here. He didn't know how involved with the Republic politics these people had been – or if they even knew there was a war that had happened. It would be hard to outrun such a name and past, he told himself.

Talor was well off in his business, far more than that of Issik's meager humblings. Talor had control of the livery and land in Talba and knew the routes well, Issik had said. He had contacts – and credits – in Mos Eisley and Anchorhead and often did business there. Practically everyone had an account to him and owed him money. He was perhaps the biggest name in Talba, which was both a disadvantage and benefit to Obi-Wan. While he would never starve, his name would pinned to Talor's. A risk he wasn't sure to accept or not – for Talor's sake.

"I," he began, shocked by his suddenly loss of speech, "I am unsure of what to say."

Talor quirked a cocked brow at him, "Unsure? Why? Do you or do you not like working for Issik? A simple question, my friend." The man steeped his fingers together, then sat back far in his chair. Obi-Wan watched the comfort the man had in his own pride and success. It reminded him somewhat of Anakin, such blatant bravado.

He shifted his weight on his feet and crossed his arms in front of him, "Perhaps a simple question, but with an undertone." A smile cracked onto Talor's face, and a deep, throaty chuckle escaped him. It made Obi-Wan quirk a small smirk on his own lips, "Are you offering me a job in your business, Mr. Jukkuun?"

The man puffed out a breath and waved his hands as if to dimiss the question, "Talor, Talor. We use first names here in Talba." he informed, clasping his hands behind his head, "and that all depends on how you enjoy your job with Issik."

Obi-Wan gave him a contemplating smirk. The man was talented in his dealings, he could tell immediately. He was determined and stubborn in his eyes, and would not rest the question until Obi-Wan gave him an answer – and answer that he wanted to hear. Not so quick would he be to betray Issik for more credits, Obi-Wan decided. He didn't need credits. He needed _help_. "The job is well enough. I have a place to sleep and food to eat."

Talor snorted and propped his feet up on his desk, his dusty boots dropping bits of sand onto the top of his papers, "Ah, yes. But no bath - or clothes – I've noticed," he scanned Obi-Wan with his eyes, "You're not a man to go without being cleaned up, _Mr_. Kenobi. You're far too good looking to be a slave in the suns." He stressed the formality, Obi-Wan sensed, to play on his own accent. To level the camaraderie. "I'd say you'd make a pretty fine business man, if I do say so myself."

"I've never been one for business," he immediately retorted, "I've always been of a working mind."

He laughed, "And who says I wouldn't _'work'_ you?" he dropped his feet off the desk and stood slowly, "I would expect you to maintain business on the routes and examine wares, handle animals. Inspect purchases, that sort of thing. Not like I'm ready to make you a partner or anything."

The sudden degradation hit Obi-Wan harder than he expected. While not expecting to become the man's closest friend, he wasn't expecting such degradation so quickly. He masked his surprise well. "I see."

Talor came around the desk and passed him, waving him towards the door. Obi-Wan turned and followed, "All I'm saying is that I'd offer you a room, some clothes, food, and a bath; _pay._ " He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, as if the idea of money was supposed to trigger a reaction from Obi-Wan. "Far more than Issik could ever dream to give you."

Obi-Wan quickly spoke without thinking, "And why would you be so quick to be so generous?" _What are you thinking, Obi-Wan?_

Talor stopped on the stairs and leaned over the railing, a smirk on his face. "For a man who has nothing, you're quick to reject everything."

"I'm simply a man who has seen such dealings go bad very, very quickly." _And who has seen the people he has trusted most turn so quickly against him._

The burly man chuckled and inhaled a breathful of whatever was cooking upstairs. Obi-Wan hadn't noticed it, but his stomach had. It sent his senses into a whirl – he hadn't eaten warm food in _weeks._ "Ahhhh, smell that? That's Maridian's famous bread," he winked at Obi-Wan, "You think about my offer over dinner, Kenobi. I want to see a man succeed in Talba, not meagerly survive. And I think there's a lot more to you than what you let on."

 _If you only knew._

Talor raised a thumb to the upstairs, "I think Maridian's bread will make your decision for you."

* * *

Once dinner had finished being prepared, Manashe took her food outside to the porch; leaving Maridian to serve and tend to both Ben and Talor. She had never seen men eat so quickly in her life the way they devoured Manashe's stew. And, Maridian's mother's bread recipe was effective as it always had been – the bread was gone before she could even think of having saving a slice for her journey home.

Ben, while desperately trying to maintain proper table manners, devoured his food ferociously, as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. The way he had eyed the display upon entering the small dining quarters of Talor's upstairs apartment suggested that he'd only merely survived on rations, much less food. She immediately wondered what Issik had been feeding the man, if anything. Though, despite his hunger, he maintained a gentility Maridian had never seen before. He ate as if at the table of a king.

Whereas, as usual, Talor _ate._ The man had never failed to eat everything in his sight, even when she'd known him as a small girl. He shoveled food into his mouth faster than she could set it on the table. His hulking frame, she knew, demanded nourishment – it was how he kept such a robust and strong health; but is also was perhaps the most disgusting thing to witness. She briefly hoped he didn't dine with business customers and partners, as the act alone would offset anyone.

They conversed over dinner, Ben and Talor. They talked about Talor's trading routes and the outlay of Talba's perimeter. They talked about banthas and livery prices. Water supplies and the vaporator fields to the east. The bustling and booming business in Anchorhead. Everything and anything they talked about, Ben eager to ask questions and Talor even more eager to answer. Maridian was content to listen and get lost in her own thoughts, until the Sand People were brought into conversation. She immediately inserted her comment.

"I wish you'd talk about something else." Was her cold retort.

Ben eyed her carefully, and for the first time, his hand paused midway to his mouth. He frowned. "I take it you have something against the Sand People?"

"Who doesn't?" Talor inserted quickly, rage filling his tone. "The murderous rags are the scum of the desert. They don't do anything but go around and kill and take. I can't tell you the –"

Maridian felt her stomach drop. "Please. Let's not talk about it." She got up, grabbed the empty bread plate and her own bowl and moved towards the kitchen. She felt Ben's eyes follow her and listened as Talor dropped a piece of bread into his mouth. He quickly changed the conversation.

Sand People had never been a topic that Maridian felt comfortable talking about. She hated the very thought of them entering her mind – the very mention of them to her ears. Perhaps hate wasn't the proper word, she surmised; perhaps it was fear. She was afraid of the Sand People, and she had been ever since she was a small girl. They preyed on the weak and defenseless families of the desert and killed as if it were sport. Her father had warned her about them when she was younger – and he warned her about them now. She still refused to venture at night because of the stories.

She stacked the dishes and turned to the stove, and began ladling the remains of the stew into a jar for Ben to take home. Her hand worked steadily as her mind wandered to the stranger at the dinner table – his voice had been soothing as he'd asked questions, his thoughts engaging. Maridian had never witnessed such intelligence at work before in a man except her father, and it was astounding. His gentle eyes and gesturing of his hands were practically mesmerizing. She felt like a girl in school listening to her teacher go on and on about the galaxies; she felt like the witness of a great unfolding of a story in his presence.

"Maridian!"

She jarred suddenly, spilling stew over the side of the jar. The heat burned her hand and she set the jar down sharply. Turning quickly, she plucked a rag from the sink counter and wrapped her simmering hand in it. The heat awakened the old burns anew and she winced, wrapped her good hand tightly around the rag, and walked back into the dining quarters. She stopped in the entryway and Ben eyed her carefully. He frowned immediately.

"Maridian – oh. There you are." Talor gestured her forward. "Do you have anymore –"

"You're hurt," Ben got up instantly and was by her side in three long, steady strides. She looked to her hand and he took it in his own, her noticing that his nose had unswelled nicely. It was still red and perhaps sore, but the swelling had subsided from earlier. He carefully unwrapped the rag she'd been tightly gripping and draped it over his shoulder. He looked at her hand and then up at her. "Stove?" He questioned.

She shook her head. "The stew was hot and I spilled some. It's nothing."

Talor furrowed his brow, "You should try and have a steadier hand, Maridian. You're lucky it wasn't a branding iron." Ben gave the man a somewhat astounded look, but hid his shock well. If Talor had only know that days before she'd harmed the same hand _with_ a branding iron, he'd probably have laughed.

Ben nodded towards the kitchen and guided her away from the table, "This way." She followed him, dumbfounded by his gentility, and once in the kitchen she stopped by the stove. He moved towards the sink and began running a small amount of water, wetting the rag. He turned back to her and shut the water off. "Someone once told me this will help the swelling." He crossed over to her and pressed the cold rag into her hand.

"Advice travels fast." She accepted the rag, "I guess I owe you twice."

He chuckled and shrugged a shoulder and spotted the jar on the stove, then noticed the spill on the floor. "Send me home some of this miraculous stuff and we'll be even." He grabbed the jar and turned it into his hands. His eyes settled on her hand, wrapped in the cloth, "You have old burns."

She shrugged, "A few days ago I took hold of the wrong end of a branding iron."

His brows rose. "Let's not tell Talor then," she smiled at him and they both laughed. He gestured back to the dining room and set the jar back on the counter.  
"I'd best return. I have a feeling Talor isn't quite done with our conversation."

He moved by her and she smiled at him, and shrugged a shoulder again. "Be careful of your ears,"

He gave her a confused look, "I beg your pardon?"

"Talor has a tendency to talk peoples ears off. Be careful of them." Her giggle was perhaps a bit childish, but she couldn't help it. The look on his face was that of humorous surprise and acknowledgment.

"I'll remember." With that, he winked at her, smiled softly, and turned from the kitchen. Maridian didn't remember a time when a man hadn't winked at her lustfully, and she liked the respect that filled the room. The gentlemanlike decency of Ben was nice and comforting. She disregarded her concerns about him almost immediately.

He'd make a fine friend, she decided. A fine friend indeed.

* * *

Only once the dishes had been taken from the table and the men had eaten their fill did Manashe come up from her own private, porch dinner area. She immediately set to work in the kitchen, cleaning dishes seeing to the kitchen's return to neatness. Maridian was instructed to sit at the table and continue to apply the cold rag to her hand, forced to listen of Talor's exploits in Anchorhead.

The conversation shifted almost instantly, "So, Ben. Have you given any more thought about my proposition?"

Maridian turned her attention to Ben. Her curiosity peaked. "An offer?" She played stupid, as if she didn't know about the proposition. "He offered you a job?"

"A simple livery hand," Ben shrugged his shoulder, "not a bad offer."

Her brows rose, specutively. "I see." She looked back to her hand and rested it on the table. Perhaps Ben working for Talor would not be a bad thing, she surmised. At least he'd have a job and fresh clothes and food. He wouldn't be living in Issik's back store, as he'd explained earlier. And he'd get experience in Talba and be able to get to know the people and business of the city.

Ben was quiet a moment, the tension in the air growing. "I should think it's most agreeable, your proposition." Talor's face lit up, but Ben waved a hand as if to silence the jubilance, "Only for a short time, though. I would like to get enough credits saved to have a place of my own outside Talba. A place to be…alone."

Ah, Maridian confirmed. He wanted to be left alone. Not surprising – most people who came to Talba _did_ want to be left alone, for one reason or another. It didn't last long, however – the village, while with its ruffians, was a pleasurable place; filled with nice people and a welcoming aura. Perhaps after spending a few weeks in the village, he'd change his mind. He, for one, didn't strike Maridian as a lone type.

Talor laughed. "Temporary it is, my friend! Welcome to business!" He slapped the table and intertwined his fingers, resting them behind his head as if finally satisfied. "You have made a good decision my friend. You will not regret it."

Ben nodded and gave Maridian a soft smile and a look from the corner of his eye. "I shouldn't think so."

She returned his warm smile. Yes, Ben Kenobi would make a good friend indeed.


	4. Chapter Three

Midnight had befallen Tatooine before Talor had gotten up from the dinner table from his conversation with Ben. It had been a long talk of multiple different topics, Maridian had noticed; business to people to culture, to desert life and water and banthas, the Hutts and hectic governments of the desert world, until finally politics. Maridian had noticed Ben had bristled as if alarmed and had skirted the topic altogether.

"It is better to stay out of something that is not your business than to go poking around into trouble." was all he'd said on the issue of the new and rising Empire. Far into the Outer Rim, everyone on Tatooine knew the system would be far out of the clutches of the Empire's hand. It really could give nothing to the Empire, and thus it was of no use. It was odd to Maridian Ben's sudden turn from politics – he struck her as the type of man to be involved in the war, or at least the goings on.

Talor stuffed his thumbs into his breeches pocket's only for a moment before reaching up and scratching his stubbled face, which was a mixture of growing beard and tattoos. "As fun as this has been, folks," he stretched his hands over his head, exposing his thick bicep muscles under his arms, "Day comes early tomorrow. Work to be done."

Maridian nodded and got up slowly. She noticed that Ben was instantly at his feet when she'd gotten up, as opposed to when she'd exited earlier. Interesting manners. "That's true enough," she set the now damp rag on the table-top and glanced at her hand – the redness had all but subsided, though her flesh still ached only slightly. It would be healed by morning. "I'll be gone before either of you wake up – best to travel before the suns are up."

Ben looked surprised, his brows raising. He crossed his arms in front of him, "Surely you don't plan to travel in the dark?"

She shook her head, "No, of course not. When the first sun is on the horizon is the best time to move across the desert," she smiled softly at him. "All the creatures are gone by then." She meant the threat of krayt dragons and other ghastly creatures that roamed the deserts at night. The posed a great threat to traveling at nightfall – or any other activity. "So if I don't see either of you again before that, thank you for everything. I am a most fortunate woman to have rescuers such as yourselves."

Ben, after trying to contain a smile at her, looked down as if his boots had suddenly become more interesting. Talor chuckled across the room and moved towards the corridor leading to the rooms, "Well, Ben; since Maridian here has the spare room –"

"- I shall acquaint myself with Issik's back room for the time being," Ben interrupted him swiftly, raising a hand, "I will have to talk to him in the morning anyway, and collect my things. I should be here by noon tomorrow – Issik has a few more crates he needs moved into that stall he is leasing."

This pleased Maridian – he was a man of his word. Talor seemed to acknowledge it as well, as a smile cracked his lips and he clapped a hand on Ben's shoulder as he passed him, "Very good. A man who sticks to his word. Most impressive, Ben."

"It's the decent thing to do," Ben said, as if he couldn't believe it was common practice. The slight wrinkle in his brow illuminated the thought in waves. Talor began down the hallway, calling over his shoulder.

"Good night all!" His voice boomed across the air, his footsteps much doing the same as he stepped into his room, kicking the door closed behind him. Once the upstairs had quited, Maridian suddenly realized it was just her and Ben, and she picked up the rag from the table.

"Thank you, for...everything," she moved across the dining area and towards the kitchen, Ben nodding from his place. He lazily moved towards her, still staring at his boots, arms crossed at the chest. He only looked up at her when she pitched the rag towards the sink from the entry of the kitchen. She then leaned against the entryway and crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm not sure what I'd have done if you hadn't come today."

He shrugged a shoulder, his eyes serious. "Just at the right place and right time." He stopped coming at her and blinked twice, her noticing him taking in her features. Suddenly embarrassed and self conscious, she moved the stray patch of curl from behind her ear and let it fall across her cheek – covering what exposed, scarred flesh might be there and might yet be unscrutinized by him.

The feeling inside her returned. It had been only slightly present most of the night, sitting like butterflies in her stomach. But now, with only Kenobi in the room, it came at in her waves. It overtook her entire body like warm honey dripping down her skin, causing heat to rise up her throat and into her chest. It was pulling again, towards him, as if in release. Pleading, almost. She wondered why suddenly; why it had suddenly come alive like a beast inside of her when it was only the two of them.

Her heart began to hammer, and she began to notice his features more clearly. He was older, probably in his thirties; wrinkles beginning at the eyes – not from old age, but experience. His skin was unmarred and youthful still, as were the lightness of his pale eyes. He kept his hair decently; longer in the front but short in the back, though it fell into his eyes – probably in need of a cut. He had a slight scare on his right cheek, though it was mostly hidden by his beard. Maridian felt herself begin to unravel – he was indeed one of the most handsome men she'd ever witnessed, though a different type of handsome than most. Chivalrous. Dashing. _Civilized._ Whereas Talor was ruggedly handsome, this man was…mysterious. It sent waves of warmth down her spine. She felt like a school girl all over again.

 _No. NO._ She reminded herself, _You can't like this man. You're promised to someone…you're promised to Talor._ The thought sent a lurch into her stomach – the feeling almost reacted to the thought and socked her insides, her hand flying to her torso and breath hitching slightly. She closed her eyes for a second, exhaled slowly, and then opened them with a snap. She fumbled for words, "Well..uh, thank you again, Ben; and goodnight –" she brushed past him quickly and hurried down the hall, one hand still pressed to her stomach. She hope he hadn't noticed her sudden change.

"Good night, Maridian," her name slipped off his tongue almost romantically, as if from a story, perfectly acquainted with his accent. _No, no, no…don't say my name. Don't lose it. You're only infatuated. Yes, that's it. Infatuated…_ she repeated, stopping at the door to the spare room. She reached for the control panel, but before she could press the button, she felt the power surge from her hand and across the air.

The button pushed without her even leveling a finger at it, and she gasped. Widening her eyes, she rushed into the room, slammed inner panel, and the door banged closed. Her breathing became rapid, she clutched her wrist, and fell against the bed, staring in horror. She looked up at the door, expecting Ben to rush through it. She knew he'd been watching.

Or…had he?

* * *

The force swirled carefully around Obi-Wan, and he'd notice the surge in the force almost immediately after Talor had bid them goodnight. It was a strange feeling – not the Force, but the strength of it, here – one that he had not been expecting, but it was unmistakable.

It only took a little pressing for him to read the girl – the attraction came off of her in waves, something he hadn't been expecting. Matched with such attraction was curiosity, as well as a serenity that he would not have guessed about her. He also found an overwhelming intelligence in her eyes, matched with a passionate strength and vitality. What also was there was exhaustion and…anxiety. Concern. It was such a mess of emotion that Obi-Wan was slightly taken aback that once person could emit so much at once – he'd been good at ready people through the force most of his life, but the clarity was staggering. He'd never experienced such an openness before with non-sensitive's.

She had panicked when he'd stepped closer to her and had studied her. Which wasn't difficult to do, he noticed, because she was of a loveliness he'd never seen before in a woman. While her features were somewhat plain she wore them expressively and her personality gave her all the adorning she needed – he hadn't noticed before, but she wasn't exactly petite or small, either. Well rounded at the hips and voluptuous at the bosom, too. Broad, strong shoulders. She had to have been no less than five foot seven inches, maybe five foot six – not tall at all, but also not small. Quite a mixing of a girl, for sure.

But what had startled him the most, which was perhaps what had caused her to panic, was the blow in the stomach he'd gotten from the force. It had hit him unexpected like a ton of bricks, and it had almost staggered him on his feet: he _felt_ the force around her. _Within_ her, almost. Inside of him he felt it strongly, as if he were turning around and around in an ocean wave pounding towards the shore. He could feel her panic at the strength of it coming off of her. He sensed her unease and fear. _It couldn't possibly be..._

And then she'd moved away quickly – she had probably sensed the force unease – and inexperience – inside of her, like he had, which had caused her to flee. She brushed by him, her shoulder budging his, and he allowed her to pass, watching as she practically took the dining room and corridor in strides. He himself a mess of confusion and contemplation – and he watched her at the door. He was about to turn away and think on this when he felt the force surge in the air and watched, in complete horror, as the door opened, her hand extended to the panel. She hadn't even touched a button.

 _By the force._ It couldn't be. A force-sensitive? On Tatooine? Another?

From his place he felt her panic again – this time more severe as she practically dived into the room, slammed a balled fist into the inner control panel, and the door slammed closed. He crossed the dining room, stopping in the corridor, and he felt it. He felt the fear and the uncertainty and the horror; the newness of it. He closed his eyes and let the Force take him to her – she was terrified and angry. Unsure.

He was certain she had no idea what she'd just done. Jedi had seen this happen with force-sensitive children many times as episodes, but only once they had been well into the Academy and their trainings. While she was far too old to meet the typical criteria of a padawan, he expected that her family had either no idea of her abilities or they had never surfaced in such a way before. She had probably never been discovered. The force had a way of making its presence known at its own pace – sometimes when children were older, others when they were born. He himself was taken from his family at only six months – Anakin had been eight. It ranged between individuals.

This concerned him. He moved away from her door and hurried down the stairs, tromping lightly. He began to contemplate this on his walk back to Issik's, having taken his clothes with him which had been folded and set on the back porch by the old woman. He held them under his arm, his brow now furrowed chronically. He scratched at his beard, slowly moving through the sands towards Issik's. He didn't pay any mind to the chilled desert air now, as he perhaps would have.

He thought on this, and the Empire. Obi-Wan had witnessed he purge of Jedi at the hand of the Empire and had seen the murder at the Temples – it was a different time now in the force, a level of severity was nestled there. Precautions had to be taken. He also considered the girl and Tatooine – she was much like Anakin. Perhaps not in the power of the force –Anakin's was much stronger – but she was here, undiscovered by the Jedi and relatively safe. Obi-Wan decided this was a mixture of good and bad as he stepped into Issik's shop and made his way through the aisles of wares to the back room.

He considered the purge. Harboring force-sensitives was illegal. It would get someone – quickly, he noted – executed. Having artifacts would get you killed. Harboring information on Jedi would get you executed. There was so much weight to the situation know that it drove him to the beside, where he set his clothes and took a sharp seat.

He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. She had been strong-willed and fiery when he'd met her, yes; perhaps a bit unorthodox. But now, her precociousness was newfound and unexpected. It was Anakin all over again. He had no idea what to do with new information – was this his responsibility? Perhaps not, but could he let her continue to have episodes and perhaps get herself – and the people of this village, who would surely be guilty by association – killed at the hands of the Empire?

He didn't know. He didn't even have an inkling. He fell back onto the bed and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the tension rise up in his shoulders. He heaved a sigh, letting his lungs completely empty before sucking in a breath of the cool, dank air of the back room.

 _I could surely use your help, Master Yoda. Surely indeed._

Not long after that Obi-Wan fell asleep, his mind still reeling as Obi-Wan instead of the mere desert dweller Ben Kenobi.

* * *

Maridian had cried herself to sleep after the episode – she was sure Ben had been watching her, as she'd had that burning sensation in the back of her head she got when men stared at her. Her unease and discomfort had skyrocketed as he'd surveyed her with his tender eyes, but as soon as the feeling had punched her stomach, it was unbearable. She had to get away from him before the feeling reached up and choked the life out of her.

She didn't know what this meant – she prayed that he hadn't seen her. There was a chance that he hadn't, after all, she had hoped her body had blocked most of the movements of her hands. Maybe he'd turned away. There were practically a hundred different scenarios to the situation; however, his chances of seeing her actions were larger than those of if he hadn't.

Maridian slept fitfully and decided to put it behind her – she'd know soon enough if he'd seen or not, as she expected he'd go asking around. No one knew of her ability in town, though it had manifested at home with her father, mostly. Her sisters had seen it when they were young and she was inexperienced, but she'd managed to be able to keep them to herself, mostly. It was unusual that her special gifting manifest itself tonight beyond her control – usually she kept it bottled up inside; it only slipped occasionally. She supposed it was because she had been worked up. As she'd told herself before, she'd have to be even more careful now – especially around Ben.

She got up and shed the clothing of last night, folding them and setting them on the bed. Her hand lingered over them a moment, letting the silk of the waistband rest in her fingers again. Manashe had folded her clothing and set them on the make-shift vanity, and Maridian dressed quickly. Tucking her shredded tunic into her breeches, she adjusted her belt quickly and donned her still-shined boots swiftly. Managing to release her hair, she piled it into a bun on top of her head, ignoring the loose curls, and set the pins on the vanity's top. She grabbed her headwrapping and draped it over her arm, and slipped from the spare room effortlessly.

Instead of the stairs, she slid down the railing smoothly and slipped off, barely making a noise. No one would be downstairs, as Manashe didn't arrive until he suns were up to prepare Talor's breakfast – he didn't get up until well into the morning. She hoped to be gone by then and slipped out the door, closing it swiftly.

She jogged towards the stalls, and saddled Luna quickly. Swinging up, she led the animal out of the stall and stopped by the door, still on the animal, and latched it. The other male eopie's watched eagerly, hopeful; until she gently kicked Luna's sides and rushed the animal towards the village's walls. The eopie's called after her, but she ignored them, and didn't allow herself a look back to the village until she was well past the gates.

The ride home took roughly an hour, by then the suns already mostly risen, the second barely past the horizons. Already they cast heat into the day. Maridian navigated the desert sands expertly, as she had done for many years, until finally she had breached the dune leading down to her family's farm – a wide expanse of fencing and sand reserved for animals. The large barn was lit with light, her sisters already doing chores. The banthas were out plodding through the sands within the fencing.

The house, however, was quiet despite the light coming from the windows. Maridian kicked Luna again and sent the animal into a clumsy, trotting plod down the down. Only once she was on their property and coming pas the front of the house did she swing off the animal, landing in the sands and her boots shifting slightly. She led the animal towards the barn, and opened the door carefully. She peeked into the barn door's parasteel window, and spotted her sisters doing chores as she had previously anticipated.

Henna, the middle child of the family, was seventeen; the spitting image of their father. She had blonde hair and freckles, their father's same green eyes and olive skin. She was as tall as Maridian was but not nearly as stout, with the same rounded face and slightly pouty lips. Her hair hung in ringlet curls to her waist, having never been cut, but today it was pulled back into a long braid. Her working hood was pulled down around her shoulders as she pitched a fork into a mound of feed and scooped it into a trough.

Her last sister came around the corner of a stall, carrying a basket of special grains. Remy was fourteen, and shared the same features as Maridian did. She was already a bit stout for her age, but not horribly; with strong shoulders and too the rounded face. Her ringlets were a lighter brown than Maridian, and hung to her shoulders pulled back at the temples by a bow of string. Whereas Maridian had inherited their mother deep blue eyes, Remy had gotten pale one's – pale blue, the color of clouded sky before rain.

 _Just like Ben's_ , she remembered. She brushed the thought off and opened the thick doors with a push of the button. They clamored open, startling the two girls inside. Instantly their faces broke into smiles and then a look of relief and they dropped their work, rocketing towards her like lightning bolts.

"You're home!" Henna exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Maridian's shoulders. The overwhelming smell of feed and animal overtook Maridian's senses, but she didn't mind. No different than how she smelled most of the time.

"We were so worried about you!" Remy announced. She came in at Maridian's side and wrapped her arms around her torso, resting her head on Maridian's shoulder. They stood there a few moments before Maridian stepped back and dropped Luna's reigns, the animal meandering towards the feed trough.

"I'm alright," Maridian chuckled, touching Henna's face gently. She took hold of a blonde, spring-like curl and pulled it gently. Then she looked to Remy and cupped the girl's cheek in her hand delicately, "Is Papa alright?"

Henna's face paled and turned grave, "He was raging when Talor called," she wrapped her hands around her middle. Whereas Maridian was the fiercest of the daughters, Henna was the most gentle, but not without her own spunk and flame. "He almost took the speeder into Talba to get you."

Panic hitched in her gut, "Let's thank the stars he didn't," she sighed, reaching up and removing the headwrap from her hair. She draped it over her shoulder and Remy turned to intercept Luna's grazing.

"But you're sure you're alright?" Henna's tone was all concern, and Maridian waved it off, mouthing the words _Don't say anything more._ Henna nodded and Maridian gave her a lopsided grin.

"All is well. I had some help with the entire ordeal," she chimed, stalking towards the tack corner of the barn. She began sorting through the materials the girls hadn't replaced, and almost as soon as the words had slipped off her tongue and atmosphere snapped like a band. Both Henna and Remy flooded into the corner beside her.

Henna rocked the Bench as she fell against it, stopping herself. "What do you mean you had help? You mean Talor?"

Maridian snorted, "Well, he did get me some new clothes to wear for the night and saw to dinner," she shrugged and then looked to Remy's anticipating face, "but no. He didn't help _with the ordeal._ " She swatted at Remy's shoulder, "Go see to Luna, Remy."

"But I want to hear –"  
"Go tend to Luna and she'll tell you later, Sandmite." Henna teased her. Remy, defeated, stalked off mumbling to herself. Henna shifted her weight on her feet and crossed her arms, waiting in anticipation as Maridian fiddled with a frayed reign. She paused in contemplative silence. Henna jabbed an elbow into her side and dropped her tone.

"You mean another _man_ helped you?"

Maridian snorted again, letting her head fall back. "You act as if it's a miracle,"

"In Talba? It sort of is."

It was true. Not many men in Talba would've come to her aid – most people were about their own business. Probably, most men would've relished in the act, as many had already filled their minds with the idea – and hadn't failed to let the other testosterone around town know about her, either. While she had every man vying for her hand, not many were upstanding catches.

"What was he like? What did he do?" Henna's prying tone was less than impatient.

Maridian shrugged a shoulder, "Well, he –"

"Maridian. Don't skirt the bush. _Tell me._ "

She sighed, "I should go see Papa first."

Henna seized her shoulders as if she were an insane woman, " _Tell me_ , or so help me I –"

"Alright, alright," she shoved Henna's hands off her shoulders, "Keep your pants on, girl." She set the reign down with a proper _clank._ She relayed the story after that, leaving out the graphics of the situation, and described Ben's rescue. It had caused Henna to seat herself on a grain canister, lost in fantasy.

" – so you see, it's really –"

"Oh, _Maridian._ " She drew out her name in a sigh, "How _marvelous._ He sounds dreamy," she stood and crossed the gap between them swiftly, reaching up to twirl a curl around her finger. "What's he look like?"

Maridian chuckled and waved the girl off, "You're too young to know,"

" _Maridian!"_ Henna followed her from the tack corner and out of the barn. Remy was just stabling Luna and Maridian thought she was going to replace the tack when instead she dropped it at the door and followed her older sisters out of the barn. Both her and Henna slid to a stop in front of Maridian, causing her to jerk her head up from where she was busy with her headwrap in her hands. "Maridian," Henna continued.

" _What_?" she stressed, peeved. "He was a fine man, that's all. He helped me and we had dinner with Talor. He seems nice enough."

"Who?" Remy asked, her features frumpling into a frown.

"The man," Henna spat at her, "What's his name? What did he look like?" She reached out and grabbed Maridian's shoulders again, " _Tell me."_ Her tone was pleading – as it probably should have been, Maridian realized. Once she was married, Henna would be the next her father sought a suitor for. And Ben, as far as she knew, was single…

It sent a rippling defeat into her stomach, and she sighed.

"Ben. His name is Ben."

"Ben _what_?"

"Ben Kenobi," she groaned and walked out of Henna's lock on her shoulder, "and he's older; auburn hair and pale eyes. A beard. Strong shoulders." She turned and began walking backwards towards the house, determined not to get lost in his features again, "Far too old for a seventeen year old _girl_."

Henna frowned and crossed her arms, jutting a hip. "Maybe I like older men!" She called across the yard.

Maridian smiled and laughed, "Maybe so, sister – but you hate beards!" She began stepping down into the house and called back to them, "Finish the chores and come inside for breakfast!"

She entered the house and found her father in the living area, browsing through paperwork. On the stove was a boiling pot of water for tea, and the house was filled with the smell of tacine leaves when he left the bag open – as he always did. He immediately dropped the paperwork and glided over to her in his chair to meet her at the door.

"Maridian," he sounded relieved, hours of strain coming off his face in waves. She hung her headwrap and brushed past him, not before leaving a kiss on his forehead.

"I'm home, Papa," she replied, moving towards the kitchen, "and you left the leaves open again." She shook her head. "They'll lose their flavor –"

"Are you alright?" He interrupted her statement and came into the kitchen, grabbing at her hands with his own. He brought them to his lips and planted a tender kiss on them, "I was so worried when Talor told me. I almost had a heart attack, young lady."

She smiled at him, "I'm fine, Papa. Someone helped me. Just some torn clothes is all." She gestured to her outfit, and went back to the bag of tea leaves. Her father bristled in curiosity.

"Oh?" He questioned, his tone raising. She sighed and stopped her work, closed her eyes and inwardly groaned. Again with Ben? She supposed she'd have to tell him. "What type of help?"

"Help from a man in town," she interjected, "But it's nothing. I thanked him –"

"A man helped you in town?" He sounded surprised, and she caught his look from the corner of her eye. He had that _look._ "Come, Maridian. Surely you have more to tell than that." He waved her towards the table.

"But Papa –"

"Come away from the leaves, Maridian, and tell me about this man!" His tone was demanding and serious, now. "At the rate you tell me about men you'll _never_ marry," he mumbled. She sighed, took the leaves with her, and seated herself at the table. He glided up to the end and put his hands on the table, reaching for one of her arm. She deflated when he looked at her with compassion.

"He just warded the man off," she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She caught her father's look and sighed, aggrevatedly now. "His name is Ben Kenobi."

His face wrinkled, "Ben Kenobi? Never heard of him."

She shrugged, "You wouldn't. He's new in town. Been working for Issik for room and board." She meddled with the leave bag and sat back in her chair, her stomach unsettling. "He's older. A wanderer, I think. Edcuated." She shrugged.

Her father's brows rose. "How much is _older._ "

She gave him a cross look, "Maybe mid thirties. Not sure." She recalled his face in her mind and closed her eyes. The sickness in her stomach doubled – she didn't want to talk about Ben anymore. Not after last night's…episode. She decided she wouldn't tell her father. "It doesn't matter. He has nothing, Papa –"

He was in contemplation, however, and wouldn't have heard the statement if she had screamed. He scratched at the goatee on his chin, which was now graying over the blonde hair. He blinked and looked over her, before leaning forward and jerking a thumb towards the corridor leading to the rooms. "And he saved you, you said?"

She nodded, giving him a suspicious look. "Well, yes, but –"

He slapped his hand on the table, "That settles it. He comes to meet with us and have dinner, for his efforts. I should like to meet this Ben Kenobi," he again jerked his thumb towards the rooms, "Go change. Fix a light breakfast, and have your sisters prepare some foods from the dry storage. This Ben Kenobi deserves a proper thanks from us." He winked at her and then turned his gliding chair around, moving back towards his corner table with his paper work.

Without thinking, she stood and scraped the chair backwards, aghast. "But Papa!" She couldn't bear seeing him again. Then she remembered her deal with Talor, "But Talor bought the banthas and expects them –"

" – I will handle Talor," he interjected, not turning to face her. He waved a hand as if to settle the situation. "Go get yourself cleaned up before you go back into Talba, Maridian. I will have your sisters get the chores done outside. You can double tomorrow." She, defeated, roughly grabbed the bag of leaves and tossed them back onto the counter behind her, in the corner. "Go, girl! The sooner you go and get back the better."

"I was just _in_ Talba, Papa –"

"You'll take the speeder, girl," he insisted, "and fetch this Ben Kenobi for supper."

"But _Papa_ ," she started again.

He ignored her, however, and went back to his papers. She groaned and went towards the corridor before stepping down into the entry of her and Henna's room. She closed the door with a press of the button, fell against it, and sank to the floor.


	5. Chapter Four

Obi-Wan was up before the second sun had risen behind the first. He found the morning air to be void of the heavy heat and aridity, instead finding it a bit lighter and cool. Almost conditioned. It had been the first morning he'd risen at this time, and he found he enjoyed it.

He'd slept fitfully, whatever slept he got. He could not stop playing in his mind the girl's episode – Maridian. The name sounded odd in his head, but played nicely on the tongue – unusual. He contemplated her state and abilities and fought with the responsibility welling inside of him – _was_ she his responsibility? In some part of him he knew she wasn't – the Jedi were no longer; there was no order of Masters or Padawans or Knights. There was only simply _them_ , those force-users who laid low under the radar of the Empire now. Those smart enough to survive, brave enough to live. However, some part of him warranted that if she continued having episodes, this girl would be discovered; one way or another. And if that happened, and the Empire found out about this girl, it would end her – and perhaps himself and Luke, as well. He could not have that, above all costs. Perhaps selfish reasons, but reasons nonetheless.

Obi-Wan reasoned as he pulled on his boots that he'd watch over her, too. _I've been babysitting most of my life anyway,_ he warranted. First Anakin, and now Luke, and now this girl, Maridian Hail. He stood, stretched his neck and raised his hands over his head, where a series of pops and cracks resonated throughout his shoulders. He hadn't felt this ache in his muscles yesterday – results of heavy lifting and labor, he realized.

Obi-Wan packed whatever things he possessed in his satchel and set them on the bedside, burying his and Anakin's lightsabers deep into the bag. Draping his cloak over top, he watched a moment as if it would crawl away – and, once satisfied it was going nowhere, he left the back room only to find Issik busy in the store already. He nodded to the man, paid him a good morning, and went out back to finish the work he'd started yesterday. He wasn't a man to do a half job, nor leave loose ends.

* * *

It was noon before Maridian had fed her family a light breakfast and had changed her clothes and bathed properly– she had reasoned against lunch, deciding dinner would be grand enough to have a meal between breakfast and then. She'd tidied their small home, saw to the chores outside – more like managed them – and hauled in whatever goods were needed for tonight's meal. She'd taken twenty-five minutes and twelve hairstyles later to decide what to do her hair in. It had taken her ten minutes to decide on a proper tunic and breeches, another five to choose between what scent to lather her skin with – rose, her favorite; or lavender, her fathers. All very absurd for her, as she usually could care less about her appearance.

In all honesty, Maridian was stalling. A part of her was terrified to venture into Talba and find Ben, while yet another had the anticipation of a schoolgirl. Much of her reasoned it was because she feared the episode last night, and that she enjoyed his conversation; however little he spoke. It was all a blur of emotion, truth be told – she'd never been nervous around a man before in her life. She'd been cavalier with Talor as she'd dangled the bait of her father's land and prize banthas and herself – though before a greedy, money oriented scoundrel such as Talor was, it wasn't difficult. Ben, on the other hand, tried her insides like brandishing iron: she was struggling to keep her head on strait.

 _Infatuation. That's all this is, Maridian, is infatuated. He saved your life, and now you've got some type of fantasy concocted in your brain…_ She jumped when her father slammed his hand on his desk and turned around sharply in his chair. She wondered a moment if he had read her thoughts. _Wouldn't shock me, considering everything else._

"Maridian – would you just _go_?" He boomed, throwing his hands into the air, "It will be dinnertime before you get back!" He shook his head, "I will see to the meat myself; all you must worry about is bread and –"

"The vegetables, I know." She quieted, dropping the ingredients for bread from her hands onto the table. She nodded, moving towards the door, and grabbed her cloak off the peg by the door. It was far too hot – the suns too strong – to go without it. She was about to leave when she spun around, "Papa. I still don't see how this is necessary." Her tone was careful, but also strong.

He groaned, "Maridian. This man has saved your life – _our_ lives. Do you know what would've happened if you'd been… _violated_?" he paused a moment for emphasis, "You're dowry relies on your…purity." He scanned her up and down with his eyes, and then did so with his hands out in front of him.

"Surely he hasn't been the first man to save a woman," she spat back bitterly. "It's not as if he's a god or anything, Papa. He did a good deed. Must we reward everyone –?"

His eyes snapped to a darkness she knew was a sign she'd tested him too much, " _Go._ Go and come back with him. I want to meet him, regardless if we eat or not."

She sighed and slung her arms into the cloak, nodding compliantly. She was beaten, anyway she sliced it. She turned towards the door, opened it, and was immediately met with Remy and Henna dusting off their clothes from the sands of the afternoon. They smiled at her and she rolled her eyes – they knew exactly where she was going, and they were excited beyond themselves that she was.

"Don't get lost, Maridian," Henna teased her, stepping down into the home. She removed her boots and hurried inside before Maridian could smack her, "we wouldn't want you and Ben –"

"Oh, shut it, Henna," Maridian hissed at her, "and go get yourselves halfway decent. If there even _is_ a halfway decent." She crossed her arms and ascended the stairs before she was out the door.

The two of them ran snickering towards the corridor, vanishing into their respective rooms. Maridian, without a word to her father, turned and approached the barn, where their speeder was kept. She opened the doors, checked the machine over, and mounted; throttling the bike a few moments and lifting her hood over her head. She revved the bike before lurching out of the barn, only slightly startling the livestock. She jetted away from the house and up the sand dune, back towards Talba.

It was roughly forty minutes to Talba by speeder, if you timed it right; though Maridian much preferred riding an eopie. They tended to better directionally and intellectually, as well as somewhat amusing. It was good for them to be out on the sands and not cooped up all the time. But, speeders could carry two or three – in her case five – and were much faster.

Her trail of sand faded into the wind once she slowed at the village gates. Town was somewhat busier than expected; some passerby's were buying wares at Issik's, others at the mechanic, most at the cantina. Maridian guided the bike towards Talor's livery offices, and parked it out front, where she spotted Manashe sweeping the stoop. Her eyes brightened at Maridian's presence as she dismounted and cut the engine of the speeder.

Maridian removed the hood from her face and smiled at the old woman before squinting against the shining sun. She put a hand to her brow before stepping onto the front step, "Hello, Manashe."

"Hello, my dear," she cooed softly, her hands curling along the top of the broom. Her smile was bright and cheery, "Anything I can do for you?"

Maridian put a hand on her hip and with the other scratched the back of her neck. "Well, I was actually looking for –"

"Talor? He's gone out, to Mos Eisley –"

"- Ben."

The old woman's mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened, just before her lips parted in a smile. Her face wrinkled and her eyes sparkled teasingly, "- ah. I see. Mr. Kenobi is out behind the livery, my dear. He is organizing the tack." She scooted up to Maridian and jabbed her elbow into her arms, "And, I might add, he's sweating. Quite a lot. Perhaps even shirtless, in this heat." She winked at Maridian suggestively, and fanned herself with a wrinkled, craggly hand. "A woman can never be too lucky in that area."

Maridian lifted her chin in surprise, and widened her eyes only slightly in humor. Manashe chuckled to herself and stepped down the step behind her, moving to Maridian's speeder and retrieving her cantina. She raised it above her head, "I'll get some water for you, dear!" and waddled off towards the very pump behind the offices that had started everything.

 _If my father wasn't looking to marry me off, everyone else seems to be,_ Maridian thought to herself. She moved throughout the offices and towards the back door, pressing the release and stepping through onto the back porch. Manashe worked the pump, humming, and gestured for her to move to the livery with a sharp jab of the hand. Maridian chuckled and shook her head, taking only one of the stairs and moving through the sand slowly. She passed Manashe, feeling a sense of swirling anticipation and fear and trepidation running through her gut. The feeling inside her began to move too, pulling against. Racing through her like a speeding animal.

She came to the livery and took her time. She stopped at the stalls and nuzzled the animal's lovingly, as she knew they lacked affection. She fed them grain from their hanging bags and spoke softly to them, all the while glancing at the corner of the livery. Just right around it was the door – the space behind where Ben had rescued her. Her stomach was in knots, the feeling looping through her body now. It was making her hands tremble, or perhaps that was nervousness.

Maybe he wouldn't say anything, she wondered. Maybe he hadn't seen, as she'd been praying for hours. Maybe it had all been her imagination and she'd dreamt up the entire fiasco. She pushed herself away from the eopie she'd been fiddling with and sighed to it, "Wish me luck." it blinked at her in response, having less of a clue than Maridian did.

She moved towards the door and pressed the button. Having no idea what to expect, it slid open quickly and sunlight flooded into the dimly lit space – revealing, indeed Ben; who was reaching for a bridle and replacing it with a reign, which would then rest properly with the other array of reigns already organized there.

Manashe had not lied – he was indeed sweating, but not shirtless. A patch of sweat had formed between his shoulders, and his hair was plastered to the side of his face. Her stomach hitched and that stanging feeling in her gut yanked and forced her to step through the door. If he knew she was there, he was playing her all the wiser. She closed her eyes and forced in s a sharp breath, resting a hand against the doorframe, one foot through; the other still outside in the sunlight.

"Hello, Ben."

* * *

Obi-Wan had been aware of Maridian's presence even before she'd opened the door. In fact, he'd felt the force shift even before she'd come through the village's wall – and it somewhat surprised him, the ferocity of the force around her. One didn't usually sense a force-sensitive so far off if they weren't strong users. He had to reconsider that she may have been using the force longer than he'd originally thought.

He played her all the wiser, however, and didn't greet her upon her entry to the tack room. He'd simply just replaced the bridle with the reign, him well-aware of her contentment just to watch him. Her fascination with his movement rang throughout the force like clear and strong belltone – she was hiding nothing, regardless if she knew how. He also sensed her trepidation and could feel her anxiety. She was scared he had seen her.

And he regretted it, somewhat. He hated that she was frightened of him, even though he'd known her less than a day. Not exactly the best way to begin laying a foundation of friendship; fear. Now was not the time to address the idea of her abilities, though Obi-Wan sensed he'd have to eventually.

He exchanged another bridle for a reign, reaching for the leather strap.

"Hello, Ben."

He stopped mid-reach as her voice filled the small room, taking him somewhat by surprise. Obi-Wan hadn't expected it to be so strong and confident – nor so melodic. It was a nice, pleasant voice, he reasoned. Mature, for a young lady.

He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow, as he was baking alive in this tack room, and turned around, one hand on the worktable behind him. He rested a hip against it and crossed a foot over the other. "Hello, Ms. Hail. What brings you back into Talba so soon?"

He noticed her standing in the doorway, half in and half out. The sun cast darkness over her face due to a shadow, and her hand rested against the doorframe in a tight, white-knuckle grip. If she hadn't been so strong-willed, she'd probably have been trembling he reasoned.

She stepped fully into the tack room, the sunlight now behind her entirely. She was under the false light now, which he noticed, did her no favors. She was definitely illuminated in sunlight and not artificial fixtures. "Maridian. I'd hope you could call me by my first name after…everything." She looked away suddenly, hinting that she wasn't only referring to the attack. He pretended to not notice.

Obi-Wan nodded, "As I shall." He ran his hand over his beard, collecting whatever droplets of sweat had gathered in it. He shifted his weight on his feet, and then clasped his hands together, them now hanging over the side of the bench as his arm rested against it. Whereas she was tight enough for the both of them, he may as well have been casual. "If you're looking for Talor, I'm afraid he's gone into Mos Eisley to do business."

She nodded and moved a stray curl from her face. "I know. Manashe told me."

He chuckled. "She's very…observant. She's been watching me most of the afternoon."

This got her to chuckle a bit, and to even give him a small lift of her shoulders and smile, "You'll find that here. People watch people. It happens." Her eyes drifted to the workbench, and she moved to it almost immediately. Lifting a reign, she examined it in her hands and shook her head. "This won't do."

He quirked a brow and straightened, eyes moving to her hands. She pushed up the sleeves of her cloak. "Oh?" he questioned.

She shook her head again and ran her thumb across a small crack in the leather, "Nope. A good tug on a hot day and this will snap right off," she tossed it aside to a bucket on the floor, then looked at him and smiled, "and then you'd have yourself in quite a situation."

He imagined the idea and shrugged a shoulder. "Well I suppose then you've saved my life," he teased her now, and she stepped away from the workbench. She stared at him now – her eyes, he noticed, betrayed her emotions. They were steady and strong and…a fierce blue he'd never before seen. "so I thank you." He finished.

She nodded and changed the subject. "My father has invited you to dinner," she all but blurted, "in thanks for saving me yesterday." She looked to her boots only momentarily and then scanned him over briefly, "I'm supposed to collect you."

His brows rose at this. "Collect me?" He stroked his chin and moved from the bench smoothly, then bent to the pile of tangled, fallen reigns and bridles throttled together in a mess. He dropped them on the bench and gestured to them, "I'm afraid I'm a bit busy."

A smile played on her lips, "Oh, overly." They chuckled together for a moment and she gestured to them, "I'll get these finished up if you want to go get changed."

He gave her an overly-exaggerated look, "I don't recall accepting your invitation,"

She gave him a playful side-glance. She was loosening up. "I'm afraid you have no choice. If I go back without you, your efforts yesterday were in vain." He laughed at this and she dived her hands into the mess. "Seriously. Please, accept. My father is a man not easily persuaded."

He nodded and couldn't contain another chuckle, "Of course. I'll be ready momentarily." She nodded and he left her, stopping in the doorway and scanning her over with his eyes again. Her short frame was already struggling to reach the pegs to hang the reigns, but she managed.

He went back towards the offices, and changed. After splashing some water on his face and changing his tunic, Obi-Wan took his cloak from the beside the door and stopped mid-stride before leaving the room. He looked at the satchel hanging off the bedpost, and in two strides, plucked it from around the post. He slung it over his shoulders and tromped down the stairs.

He checked out the back door, and finding the livery closed, assumed Maridian had gone out front. He was correct in his assumption, as he found her throttling a speeder-bike, only to bend beside it to check beneath. The machine seemed to be running perfectly.

"Some trouble?" He asked, clearing the steps. He slipped into his cloak and situated the hood behind him, furrowing his brow as she surveyed the machine. She looked up at him over the side, released the throttle all together, and shrugged.

"Sometimes it leaks. An older model." She swung a leg over gracefully and situated herself on the bike, then waved him over with a jerk of her head. He could tell already she was becoming comfortable around him – but also that she was a bit nervous. That alone he got from the sudden blush on her nose, "Come," she gestured with a hand behind her, "I have bread to make."

He put his hands up and moved towards the bike, "Far be it from me to keep a woman from her kitchen," she rolled her eyes at him and leaned forward to grasp the handle-bars, and he paused only a moment before slipping onto the bike behind her. It dipped only slightly under the added weight.

She bristled, as expected. Though, she remained somewhat calm and collected. She throttled the bike, and despite her efforts, he could still hear her breath hitch. He found it oddly satisfying she was uncomfortable – perhaps flattered.

 _Calm down,_ he told himself. _She's only a girl. A very shaken up, precocious girl._ He considered his next actions carefully, and modestly wrapped an arm around her torso – both to steady himself and her. He used the other hand to grip the side-running hand-hold to his right. She tensed, and panicked only slightly, but contained herself impressively.

"Ready?" She asked, voice raising over the throttle. He nodded and released a breath, leaning forward to her ear so she could hear him.

"Are you ready?"

She laughed – and a bit of nervousness rang through, "I was born ready, Ben!" she called, throttling he bike again, this time lurching them forward and guiding the bike towards the desert. A sense of freedom erupted through her, and Obi-Wan briefly considered the idea that she may have been.

* * *

 **AN: Hopefully it's not too haughty of me to ask why there hasn't been as many reviews as I'd anticipated with this. It's sort of surprising - figured it would've launched by now, somewhat. Huh. Strange, I guess. But not discouraging! I hope it takes off a bit more with you readers - would really love some feedback, as I've never delved into the _Star Wars_ side of fanfiction.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading - drop a review on the way out! Until next time!**


	6. Chapter Five

Maridian lead the speeder through the dunes swiftly, with acquainted agility. She graciously turned and navigated the bike with expert ease, having memorized the route from Talba to her home many years previous. She could have done it with her eyes closed if she wanted to.

What was not so familiar, though, was Ben's arm around her torso. A modest one, for sure, but still a hold nonetheless. She secretly hoped he didn't notice her pudge, and prayed he couldn't feel the pounding of her heartbeat – he hadn't said anything about yesterday. Whether out of politeness or ignorance she didn't know, but for now she would leave it. Better to leave a sleeping animal lie than wake it up and get yourself in trouble. She didn't know him, after all, or his tendency to make trouble.

Soon they were at the perimeter of her family's home and she slowed the speeder at the descending dune, dropping a leg off the bike to stable it. Ben did so likewise, his eyes falling past the dune down to the settled farm. He dropped his hand away from her torso and she breathed a breath of relief, then dropped her hands from the handlebars.

"Here we are," she chirped, trying to be optimistic. "Home."

"It's lovely," he complied. Modest in all respects, her home was quite a picturesque place in the Dune Sea – as picturesque as a bantha farm could be. Maridian noticed the livestock had been brought into the barn, but the outer door had been left open – her sisters had forgotten in her absence, as they always did.

"It's home," she said, her voice content, "We'll take this into the barn and brush off at the pump around the back." When he nodded, she throttled the idling bike and led it down the dune carefully. They moved past the house towards the barn, kicking up a dust of sand when Maridian cut it a bit short around the fence.

She applied the brake and slowed, parking the speeder in the added- on stall beside the barn's main door. She removed her hood and cut the engine, the bike raising a few inches when Ben dismounted. He didn't reach to remove the hood of his cloak while she swung off the bike carefully.

She covered the machine with a tarp and led him around to the pump behind the barn. Activating the initiation code, she dipped her hands beneath the cool water and splashed her face, and then took her wet hands and brushed the sand from her hair and clothes. Ben did the same, and she shut the pump off. She waved him towards the house.

The feeling had settled a bit inside of her – no longer was it pulling and yanking or beastly ferocious, but instead it had settled into just a slight buzz, as if on the precipice. What she worried about more was how aware her body was of him, and how oddly warm she felt inside. She busied her hands by brushing herself off and moved away from the pump. She looked into the sky and shielded her eyes. Ben followed suit.

There was still plenty of daylight to prepare dinner – which would be good for her, as she needed to get away from Ben's scrutiny. Maridian supposed it wasn't deliberate scrutiny; most of it was concocted into her brain because of her own self consciousness.

Once at the door, she stepped down, putting a hand on the overhead to keep from belting her head. She patted it carefully, "Watch yourself." Ben said nothing in return, and she opened the door with a press of the panel button.

It slid open, revealing her sisters' almost immediate gravitational appearance. Both were in their absolute best – Remy, a thin red dress which they'd converted from one of their father's tunic's, matched with boots and braided bands of her hair across her head, like a milkmaid. Henna, not surprisingly, wore a skirt and tunic with a shoulder wrap, with her hair done in an elaborate Alderaanian braid. She had made her face up with a small amount of glossy paint on her lips, and a design painted beside her right eye. Her father was in the kitchen, stabbing a knife into the meat of their dinner before sliding it back into the oven. He had shaved, slicked his hair, and changed his overtunic.

"Ah, Maridian!' He called to her. Remy and Henna intercepted her, Henna taking her cloak and hanging it steadily – her eyes boring into the figure still standing in the doorway. Remy stood before Maridian and glanced around her at the stranger, Ben Kenobi.

Maridian touched Remy's cheek and turned, slipping her arm around the girl's shoulders, looking at Ben with a coy smile. She could see the intimidation well in his eyes, the blunt expression on his face. The brusqueness came off of him in volumes. He was in her wheelhouse now. "Come in, Ben," she gestured with a wave of her hand, scanning him up and down with her eyes. "Take a load off."

"Yes, do come in," Henna said, her face breaking into a smile.

Ben glanced at Maridian and gave her a slight raise of a brow, and then an ever evident smile, "Thank you," was all he said. He began unrobing from his cloak and Henna was at his side immediately to intercept it.

"Let me take that," She said softly.

He glanced at her, nodded, and she hung it beside Maridian's. Ben meandered into the house carefully, taking into account his surroundings. By this time Maridian had moved into the kitchen, ever aware of his presence, and began preparing to make vegetables and the ingredients for bread. Remy, she noticed, was glued to the floor beside Ben as if she'd become one with his shadow. He looked down at her and gave her a quirky, awkward half smile.

She, taking this as an invitation, reached and placed her hands on his arm, drawing herself in dreamily as if she'd become lost in a vision. Henna came up to his other side and moved past him, pulling out a chair at the table. "Please, sit."

He went to move forward, Remy still on his arm. "Yes, sit, Mr. Kenobi."

Maridian could hardly keep from laughing. She bit her lower lip and clenched her jaw, sharing a look with her father who too was taking in the man's presence. It filled the room as if it had become the air itself. It was delightfully suffocating. Maridian's feeling pricked inside of her and jabbed into her chest, practically spinning her around itself – she could feel the apprehensiveness raising within Ben, and the overwhelming sense of urgency and intimidation.

"Girls," she snapped at them, jerking her head towards the living room, "leave our guest alone. We would like him to be able to eat with us and not run back to Talba," her voice trailed into a chuckle, and she reached for the overhead bag of flour in the cuboard. Once in hand, she gestured to the chair and nodded to Ben, "have a seat, Ben. Their bark is worse than their bite, I promise. Remy," she nodded to the younger, "and Henna. Sisters of the most deplorable kind." She made sure her tone was joking.

He didn't relax, but moved towards the chair when Remy dropped her hand from his arm and walked into the kitchen. Henna, however, hadn't heard a word and seated herself beside his. She propped her chin in her hand and studied Ben. Before he sat, however, Maridian watched from the corner of her eye as he addressed her father and extended a hand to him.

"Bartholomew Hail," his accented voice was calm and steady as he announced his knowledge of the man's name, "Good to meet you, sir. Ben Kenobi." He introduced himself.

Her father chuckled, "As I've heard," he glanced at Maridian, "welcome. Good to put a name with a face."

"I agree completely." He glanced only briefly at Maridian, and seated himself. He seemed not to mind Henna's boring stare, and Remy seated herself across from him. Their father glided to the head of the table.

There was a silence a moment until her father spoke again, "My daughter tells me you were of some assistance to her in Talba yesterday afternoon, yes?" Immediately the tension in the room spiked through the roof – and Maridian's stomach dropped into her feet. She almost dropped the bread batter she'd been seeing to on the floor.

She glanced from her place in the kitchen at the table, "Just simply a matter of fate, I guess. I was there at the right time, and saw to the upstanding thing to do." Ben leaned back into the chair and put his hands on his knees under the table, "I'd hope any decent man would do the same."

Her father laughed, loudly. "This is Talba, Mr. Kenobi – the decent men are few and far between here." He rapped his knuckles on the table top.

"As I've heard," Ben must've felt her staring, cause he gave her a light smirk. This caused her to turn back fully her task at hand – kneading the flour and water and oil into a doughy mixture. Her hands instantly caked with the dough and flour, and she realized her hands were sweating. Ben continued his thought, "the fact hasn't failed to escape my attention."

Her father contemplated; she caught him rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I'm sure my daughter has brought to your attention the lack of…prospects. If there is one thing Talba has no shortage in it is indecent, uncivilized people."

Ben said nothing. Maridian moved to intercept a pan from the top of the cooling box, and brought it down. She dusted it with flour and tossed her lump of dough inside. Then, she added butter to the lump of dough and covered it. She, however appearing to be busy, was honed in on the conversation.

"So, on all accounts, I must thank you personally for your rescuing my daughter," Her father started, "truly an intervention. I could not have imagined what would've happened if you hadn't have shown up." Her father glided closer to Ben's chair and put a hand on his shoulder, "I, as a father, am most grateful." He gestured to his legs, "As you can see, I'm not one to jump into action like I used to be. It becomes a challenge watching after my daughters, with two worthless legs." he looked across the table to Remy and then over to Henna at Ben's side, and he chuckled.

Henna gasped behind Maridian, "Papa,"

He ignored the chastisement from his girl, instead choosing to continue his thought. "And you can imagine how difficult it must be, out here in the desert wasteland, with such precious beauties, hm?"

At this, Maridian paused. She had set to preparing to cut vegetables, giving half a glance over her shoulder. Heat flushed through her body instantly and her stomach did a flop. The feeling jabbed again, but not so forcefully, and she grabbed for a blade which was magnetized to the wall. There was a beat of silence, the air moving with tension. She could almost feel Ben's smirk burn into the back of her head.

Suddenly, without warning, a surge of _something_ shot through her and swirled around her head in a haziness, almost as if it had reached out and touched her mind. She abruptly sat down the blade, brushed her hands on a rag beside the sink, and moved out of the kitchen towards the corridor. Her hands had begun to tremble. She heard Ben reply to her father as she fell against the corridor wall, and heaved a sigh; well out of sight from the guest at the dinner table:

"Indeed."

* * *

The girl's uneasiness had settled somewhat on the ride across the dunes, Obi-Wan had noticed. She'd felt a bit more confidence and as if she were in control as she'd guided the bike – the force had settled around her, now almost like an unsure amount f bubbling pressure instead of a frenzied panic. Not unusual, for unaware force-sensitives.

He had not expected the shift of power, however, when they entered the home. She melted into the mixture of the home's pace almost effortless – he had noticed it immediately, as soon as her cloak had come off: this was _her_ home. Her work. As if she herself was the mother of this roost, she had it under her thumb and in her control. He had very much become aware of her sudden braveness and bravado. It was relatively appealing to see it show in her eyes – he preferred the strong and confident side of her eyes than the frightened and unsure.

She continually surprised him, that much was certain. He could not quite pin down her emotions anymore as she moved about her tasks carefully and mindfully. He could tell she was listening as she'd glanced back into the conversation and tilted her ear towards their speaking to one another. Obi-Wan got the idea she was, in a way, showing off performing typical tasks; she was used of flaunting her abilities as a house-wife. It was appealing material out here in the desert, and a deadly dangerous weapon for a woman to possess. To know her value and worth and use it to her advantage was smart, but also made Obi-Wan a bit underhearted. No woman should have to stoop to using her abilities to get a man's attention – to provide and survive.

Now she had abruptly left the kitchen. He hadn't meant to press into the force so strongly, though it had obviously accomplished what he had anticipated: by pressing it towards her and reaching out to her, her response had confirmed what he'd already truthfully known inside of himself of her abilities. She was keenly aware of her ability and it did not come in waves – it rested in her, like a low-laying flame. Once fanned, it ignited.

When Maridian didn't return for some time, he focused his attention on the family. They were amiable people, with a vitality he found surprising in the desert. The father, Bartholomew, had no issue finding things to talk about – he struck up conversation as if he'd known Obi-Wan his entire life, to the point where he didn't have to say anything and the man was fine. He simply engaged eye-contact and gave him an ear, nodding and shifting intelligibly to keep the man engaged. Basic observation skills were needed with him to keep him satisfied, Obi-Wan concluded. The man was simply in need of mature, male companionship.

Obi-Wan didn't even have to press into the force to read the other two daughters. The elder one was clearly smitten and romanticized, her doe eyes a beautiful green, which reminded him of lightsaber blades. Her hair was a sandy blonde, strands bleached almost white from the sun. This girl was far more slender than Maridian was, but also strong in the shoulders and well filled out. However, she was all innocence and curiosity, but also desperate to make a connection with any man that would even give her a second look – far too eager to grow up, ever the picture of a young bride.

The youngest had to have been no more than about thirteen years old, he reasoned. She carried the traits of Maridian; which he assumed they got from their mother, since the middle girl resembled the father. She had darker skin, hinting at excessive amounts of suns, and her eyes a pale-blue that starkly benefited her features. Her hair was a lighter brown than Maridian's too, and was pulled into youthful, maiden braids across her head. While her sisters were all innocence, she was the embodiment of it. The purity radiating off of her almost startled Obi-Wan, but he also found it amiable.

A beautiful family, he concluded. As Maridian came back into the kitchen, looking less startled, he considered briefly the idea that if Maridian was force-sensitive, than her sisters could be too. But, pressing into the force reassured him that no, Maridian was the only force-sensitive of the family. He let his thoughts wander back to the man's conversation. Obi-Wan was surprised to find that he had the urge to look back to Maridian again, but denied himself the action. He attempted to engage fully with Bartholomew Hail.

Their conversation was simple and easy from there on. Obi-Wan didn't have to say much, which he liked; Bartholomew didn't ask him questions, which he also enjoyed. He simple inquired of his job in Talba, where Obi-Wan simply answered that he had started working for Talor in hopes of purchasing land outside the village.

"Have to go into Mos Eisley for that," the man jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "all the land business is done there at the geographic offices. There's some nice places to the east of here, some to the west. Depends on what you're looking for and what you want to do."

Obi-Wan considered this – little Luke, Anakin's boy, was to the west of here, not far. Maybe forty minutes. He didn't want to be terribly far from him, but also not terribly close. Obi-Wan got the sense that Owen didn't like his presence too much around the boy, considering the events with the Empire and the Jedi. "Just a simple thing," Obi-Wan finally answered him, "perhaps where I could have a few animals and land to live comfortably." He hoped by then perhaps Bail Organa would come in on his promises to see to Obi-Wan's livelihood and that of Luke's as well – he had not heard anything in his three weeks of presence on Tatooine.

Bartholomew nodded and contemplated this. It gave an opportunity for the middle girl to speak, and she did. "You raise animals, Mr. Kenobi?"

He nodded softly and shrugged a shoulder, "I have experience with them," which was not entirely a lie, he surmised. He smiled at her softly, "and you may call me Ben, please." This sent a dark blush up her neck and onto her nose. He had to suppress a chuckle.

Suddenly, Bartholomew glided away from the table and towards the kitchen, where Maridian was busy having finished cutting what looked like the most delicious vegetables he'd ever seen. "Darling," the man began, getting her attention. She glanced at him and moved towards the stove, opening the front, "isn't there a place to the northwest that's been abandoned for awhile? You know, that –"

She nodded and cut him off, her eyes darted to him for only a brief instant before she reached for the pan of bread, "The old hobby farm of Grendal and Loma's? Yes, I know of it." Obi-Wan watched her hands slide the pan into the stove, and he felt his stomach move in anticipation of the potent bread. "It's been empty for some time. Perhaps a good place to lay down roots."

"Ah, yes!" Bartholomew slapped the arms of his chair, "That's the one. It's been empty for awhile, but Grendal kept good care of the place. Shouldn't be too ran down yet," he waved off the thought, "they moved into Mos Eisley when their daughter was born last spring. A hard worker. The entire place is set up for livestock."

This got the middle girl's attention, "We could give you livestock to get you started," she interjected quickly, suddenly closer to Obi-Wan than he remembered, "it's a darling little farm. Perfect for a small family." Her broadcast was clear, for certain. He looked to Bartholomew and his attention snapped to the kitchen when he heard the stove door slam.

"Henna!"

She flashed a look to Maridian, her brow wrinkling in defense. "What? I am simply stating the - "

"- And a bit shamelessly, I might add." Maridian crossed her arms in front of her, pointing towards the door, "go and get some milk. I forgot it earlier."

The girl looked horrified, "Maridian –"

" _Go now_ ," she stressed, waving her hand. Her look was insistent and clear. The girl, Henna, got up from her chair without word and was out the door seconds later. Obi-Wan found the smaller one smiling at him, a goofy look on her face. She shifted in her seat as if watching a show. Obi-Wan shared a look with her.

"Calm down, my dear." Bartholomew attempted to rescue the situation, "she's only a girl."

Maridian gave Obi-Wan an uneasy look, and then looked at her father and her hand came down a bit sharply on the counter, rattling the dishes she'd used to prepare dinner, "And that's the problem." At that, she turned, but not before reconsidering her statement and glancing over her shoulder at Obi-Wan. "I'm sorry, Ben."

He didn't say anything, simply nodded his understanding. She picked up on the message.

"Remy, please come set the table." The girl complied immediately and Maridian placed the dirty dishes into the sink. She had seemed to steady a bit and began to bring down glasses from the cupboard where her sister couldn't reach.

"Anyway," Bartholomew changed the subject, "the place is a good one. Steady and away from the world," he chuckled, "You've got us as neighbors and then, who -?" he called over his shoulder for Maridian to finish the idea as she moved into the living room.

"- Owen and Beru Lars, Papa."

"Ah yes. Owen and Beru. A sweet young family." He placed his hands on the table and Obi-Wan watched as Maridian stooped beside a trunk in the living area and opened it carefully. She reached inside and grabbed a cloth, brushed it off, stood, lowering the trunk's lid with her foot. Obi-Wan cracked a bit of a smile as she came back. She stood beside her father and began unfolding the cloth.

"Their e baby is simply beautiful," Maridian inserted, "a beautiful young son."

Obi-Wan snapped to attention at this, bristling. She'd seen the child? A million thoughts began to circle in his brain as he contemplated this. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as Bartholomew helped his daughter spread the cloth over the table.

Henna came back into the house shortly after the conversation dropped. Obi-Wan was content to watch and think about the events – they had seen the boy already? Owen had brought him into the village, he assumed. It wasn't fair of him to judge them; they were most excited he was sure. But for Maridian to have seen the boy opened an entirety of situational circumstances – if she knew of the boy and was somehow found out…

He didn't dwell on it. Now wasn't the time. He would address the issue in meditation later.

* * *

Maridian served dinner shortly after the conversation of the abandoned farm had dropped. Her father hadn't lied – he'd seen to the meat perfectly and had seasoned it terrifically, to where the house smelled wonderfully of its seasonings.

She listened at dinner as her father – and now, sisters; having mustered courage – drilled the man at their table about himself. He skirted questions and dodged suggestions, all the while never appearing the least bit phased. He seemed aware of the situation even before it had fully surfaced. He simply ate and finally her father changed conversation – not surprisingly, to the Sand People.

While her father was a rancher, he seemed overwhelmingly fixated with the Sand People. He followed news of them like a shadow. He knew of all the latest attacks and movings and goings on in the area. He knew some of the men from the militia which ran out of Mos Eisley, which was dedicated to intervention of the Sand People and protection from them. They had a route they kept daily and weekly, and kept people in the loop. Talor funded the militia for Talba's regions solely, thinking it best for the community at large. No had stopped him, and no one had aided him either.

Ben seemed most intrigued about the Sand People, she noticed. He had a different level of observation. She had noticed he'd only half paid attention to most of the their conversings, which she found understandable; knowing her father. But, she was finding it more and more difficult to pinpoint him and read him. Her ability had, throughout her life, made it painfully easy to read people, sometimes determine reactions and situations. But, not tonight. _Come to think of it, I haven't been able to read much into Ben at all…_ it was an observation which concerned her. Perhaps it didn't work all the time with all people. Maybe just dimwitted ones like most inhabitants of Talba.

"Are they active much around this region?" Ben piqued.

Her father shook his head, "Not since Talor put in for a route around Talba's regions, no." He waved his fork into the air, "The Sand People seem to know where the limits of their power lie. They haven't so much as batted an eye towards Talba."

"Interesting," Ben concluded.

Maridian spoke without thinking, "Between the Hutts and the militia, they'd be too frightened too. Which is good." Ben snapped his attention to her and forked a piece of meat into his mouth. She gave him a weak, somewhat apologetic smile for her lack of tact.

"The Hutts have dealings in Talba?" The question was directed at her. She shifted a look to her father and graciously slipped a piece of bread into her mouth meekly.

Bartholomew shot a look to Maridian across the table, which was a silent warning. She looked back to Ben and shrugged, "With some, yes." _Us, Ben. People like us._ He looked concerned, with a slight bolt of surprise in his eyes. She tried to hide her uneasiness.

"I didn't think the Hutts would pay much mind to simple doings in the Dune Sea,"

She chuckled at him, "They don't. People go into Mos Eisley, desperate most times. The Hutts give them what they need to survive. They keep very good track of their _investments._ " She swirled the water in her glass and pushed aside her now empty plate, "It's hard to survive in the desert in such a small place. As you'll soon find out."

He took a drink of water and downed it. She couldn't help but watch a bit of water escape the corner of his mouth and wet his beard. She noticed across the table that Henna couldn't either. He set the glass down with a clank, it now empty. "I'd imagine so." A quirky smile pulled at his lips. _For a mystery man, he sure has a way of smiling a lot,_ she noticed.

She dropped her gaze from him and got up from her seat, taking her dishes into the kitchen. She checked the chrono on the wall above the sink – it was already beginning to darken outside. She hadn't imagined the day had gone by so quickly. He would have to return Ben to Talba before it got any darker. To trigger the idea, she called over her shoulder.

"Papa, what time is it?"

The man paused and then replied, "Almost dark." as if he could read her mind about the concern. "Much too late for you to travel into Talba, dear. Not after everything." She came back into the dining area and retrieved the empty dishes, noticing that again Ben had eaten everything off his plate.

"I agree," came Ben's insert quickly. She stared at him, her eyes widening. "It wouldn't be safe for you to travel back alone."

Her father laughed, "Then it's settled. Ben, you shall stay the night and Maridian will take you home at first light." Maridian's heart almost stopped, and her father threw her a cavalier look, "Maridian will prepare you a place to sleep in the living area." He looked at Ben apologetically. "I'm afraid we don't have an extra bed for you."

Ben looked as terrified as Maridian felt. He looked at her nervously and then to her father, putting up a hand, "I couldn't possibly –"

"And what do you suggest you do, young man? Walk back to Talba?" Her father glided towards her and grabbed the dishes from her, and nodded towards the corridor, "Take the big comforter from my bed, Maridian, and prepare it on the floor for our guest."

"Mr. Hail –"

"It's decided then. Ben shall sleep on the floor." He nodded as if in confirmation of the statement, before scooting into the kitchen with his chair. Maridian could feel the excitement level rise in the room from her sisters – they shared a giddy look with one another. She reached to stable herself on a chair, as she was sure she would fall over dead.

However, Ben's equally terrified look kept her cemented in place.

* * *

 **AN: Well, that went better than expected. Or perhaps not! Thanks so much for the reviews and the favorites, so far - I hope you've already peeked at the author's note I put at the beginning of the story before the prologue. It's just a piece of my heart tossed into this piece - it's already so much fun! I'd appreciate you guys' continual support and reviews - they mean the world!  
**


	7. Chapter Six

Maridian looked as terrified as Obi-Wan felt. He was pretty sure his gut had hit the floor and had settled at his feet at the sudden turn of events – he wasn't exactly sure how it had escalated to this, and he replayed the situation in his mind over again as Barholomew Hail had set clearing the table. He hoped the sudden surprise was not so evident on his face, so he steeled himself just to be sure.

He supposed it was for the best, but as Maridian turned away to begin working in the kitchen again, he suspected a mixture of emotion of radiate from her. The stiffness in her shoulders as she worked spoke volumes to him of her uneasiness, but he felt an odd, comforting warmth in the force about her. Unmistakable was the waves of attraction flowing out of her now. He had to divert his eyes so they wash over her body again.

The two other girls, Henna and Remy, looked as pleased as peaches. Remy had a girlish, goofy smile plastered on her face, and Obi-Wan reasoned that he could get lost in the youthful pools of her eyes as he recalled the years before when he himself had looked into those doe eyes of his padawan – and many younglings of the Jedi Code in his time as a Master.

"Girls," Bartholomew called to them, "come and finish these dishes." They said nothing, the littlest girl slipping out of her chair smoothly and moving into the kitchen. Henna didn't take her eyes off of him until Maridian grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the sink, leaning to whisper in her ear. He had to suppress a lopsided smile. He felt a blush pool in his stomach.

Bartholomew moved out of the dining area and towards a desk in the corner of the house, and he paused, turning his chair. He waved Obi-Wan over, "Come, son. Let me show you the place I mentioned." Obi-Wan nodded, gave one glance into the kitchen and watched Maridian reach high to replace a dish before slipping out of the chair.

As he approached, the man dug from one of the desk drawers a holomap; an older, pre-Clone Age device. He activated it and set it on the desk, and Obi-Wan found it to a detailed map and log of the Talba regions. He had clearly marked Tusken activity, and his fingers moved along the map before it jabbed into the holo and circled. "Right here, the old hobby farm. It's a bit closer to Mos Eisley than we are which isn't bad. Good water there." He nodded and stroked his chin, "A decent place." Obi-Wan calculated it was about twenty klicks from the Hail's property, another 10 from the Larses. Out in the middle of the Dune Sea, far from eyes and business.

He liked it almost immediately, and nodded his approval, reaching up to stroke his beard. "Fantastic," he agreed, "perhaps I will go into Mos Eisley and inquire of the land myself." The man's eyes sparkled and he beamed at Obi-Wan, "It would be nice to be alone." He was more hinting at the idea of not living in the back room of someone's store, but Bartholomew had other ideas.

Bartholomew winked, "But not _too_ alone, eh? Bad for any man," he jabbed his elbow into Obi-Wan's side, "there's something about having a woman in the house that settles a man down and calms his soul," Obi-Wan resisted every urge within him not to look into the kitchen, but Bartholomew's eyes led him to, "being in exile isn't the way to live, especially out here." He slapped the desk and turned down the holodevice.

Obi-Wan, slightly uncomfortable by the undertone in the man's platitude, crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight on his feet, "Where I come from, solicitude is a precious amenity." The man waved off the idea almost instantly.

"Perhaps for a monk or a Jedi," he shook his head, "but for a man like yourself, Ben – solitude isn't good for you. I can see it." He gestured up and down Obi-Wan's body with a hand, "I have a sense about people, you know."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding and quirked a brow. The man moved back towards the kitchen, guiding the chair along. Obi-Wan followed behind slowly. Maridian was drying her hand on a towel and turned to face her father, "I'll be going outside to see to the barn for the night, Papa," her eyes moved over to Obi-Wan and scanned him carefully, "before I see to Ben's sleeping arrangements."

Her father nodded, "Very well. I will have your sisters help me to bed then." He turned his chair slightly and glanced at Obi-Wan, "Why don't you take Ben with you, Maridian? Give him an idea of the livestock," he smiled at them, and Obi-Wan's stomach hitched, "I won't be persuaded to sell livestock to a man who has no idea how to care for them out here."

She said nothing, only nodded and tossed the towel onto the now empty table. Remy moved to intercept it, Maridian walking towards the door to grab her cloak, as well as Obi-Wan's. He moved towards the door and she handed it to him, "For the chill," was her simple statement. He nodded and slipped into it, and she was already situating her hood over her head and moving to intercept the door panel's controls.

Obi-Wan followed her out, and they stepped into the wind of the night, which tossed bits of sand across the desert floor. They crossed the yard quickly to the barn, and she opened the doors and stepped through swiftly, expertly. Obi-Wan followed as she moved to the back wall and began pulling down blankets from a shelf. She turned and headed back towards him.

Her eyes met his briefly as she handed him a stack of blankets, "For the thinner animals," she gestured to the stalls, "eopie's and the younglings." He nodded and she led him towards the stall, opening one of the doors where he noticed the animal she had ridden into town. "I'm sorry about tonight."

Her statement surprised him. He noted she seemed calmer, as if in her element. Perhaps even a bit brusque. "Why would you be?" He questioned, her intercepting a blanket from him. She unfolded it and draped it across the animal's back, pulling it into place.

"My father can be very…outgoing," she smiled softly, then rolled her eyes, "and my sisters are a different story altogether. I can't even begin to describe their behavior other than it is...horrible." She stooped to fluff the fresh bed of straw, then stood and brushed her cloak off with a quick hand, "They're all very forward."

She struck him as forward too, but also tactful. It didn't shock him. She had a strong spirit and her head was screwed on straight - at least it appeared to be."There is no need to apologize. Your family is most hospitable." As she left the stall, he reached a hand to guide the door back into place, seeing that it locked. He hadn't noticed how he'd towered above her until she plucked another blanket from his arm, "I would not have expected less, having met you."

Maridian gave him a wry smile, and he briefly considered that he'd taken a liberty, "I can be forward," she sighed, opening another stall. "And brash. Even a little standoffish," he gave her a half smile and she shook her head, "which I have been." She shot him a look, "I hope you don't think I'm rude or something." She busied her hands and stooped to stroke the nose of the youngling in a tender gesture.

He shook his head, "On the contrary, I think you're rather noble in light of everything that has happened."

She smiled at him, this time her eyes sparkling. He noticed immediately and looked down to his boots, which were now caked with sand and bits of straw. The conversation dropped from there, and she instructed him on the doings of preparing the barn for the night. After they'd blanketed the animals, they refilled grain and water. She showed him how much grain went to specific animals and how to check to see if they were responding well to the diet, and so forth.

By the time they had finished, two hours had gone by; Obi-Wan not missing a one of them. By this time Maridian had entirely opened up to him, and he finally met her personality unabashed and in full. He noticed she talked with her hands and was a good teacher. By now she had entirely released, and no longer was the force in question about her. He reasoned she had dismissed the episode the night before, guessing he hadn't seen. He made sure to remain indifferent about it, and didn't press the force. In her openness, he found he rather liked her company.

"And that's that," she concluded, extinguishing the lights and opening the heavy panel door. They stepped through and she saw it closed. Turning to him, she brushed aside a stray curl within the hood of her cloak, pulling it closed at the nape of her neck.

He nodded and extended a hand to her elbow as if to guide her back to the house, "It doesn't seem too difficult," he replied.

Maridian shook her head, "It's not. A matter of understanding animals," she looked up at him, "which you seem to have a handle of. It won't take long before you have a good understanding. Working for Talor will help you."

They came to the house and stepped down into it, finding Henna and Remy had already changed into nightclothes. Henna had been curled onto the couch with an older-model datapad, and Remy was at the table, a leather pouch of drawing utensils sprawled before her; a piece of parchment paper under her careful study. Obi-Wan hung his cloak beside Maridian's, who moved to her father's desk to write something down.

Obi-Wan approached Remy, finding her busily drawing with stained hands. He peered over her shoulder, examining the work, her not even noticing. Or maybe she had noticed but didn't seem to mind. He crossed his arms over his chest, "You have a magnificent eye." He stated simply, impressed. Life on Coruscant had made him well aware of the arts, that much was certain. There had been an abundance of it there, and he found a pang of sadness hit him at the thought.

She didn't flinch from her work, "Thank you," she said simply. Obi-Wan noticed she had the end of her tongue sticking out between her lips in concentration. "I want to be an artist someday."

He nodded, "A most noble profession."

She shrugged and changed utensils, "It beats life in the desert." Came the simple reply. He could not argue with that – a young lady with an endless pool of possibilities perhaps would want to be away from desert life. Anyone with aspirations would. Anyone who wasn't running away from something, anyway.

"Is Papa in bed?" Maridian intercepted their conversation as she moved into the living area. Obi-Wan watched as she swatted Henna's feet off the couch, his eyes unable to stop following her movements. She crossed her arms and cocked a hip, expectantly.

"Yes," Henna replied without looking up, and pointed to the chair in the corner of the room, "comforter's right there for Ben." She broke concentration with the datapad and smiled at him. He looked away and Maridian moved to intercept the blanket.

She began unfolding it and moved to the center of the living room, which he noticed was sparsely decorated, but nicely kept. She knelt and began situating the blanket on the floor, turning to look at Henna on the couch, "get yourselves in bed. Morning comes early tomorrow, since I have to take Ben back." Neither girl responded at first, "And that means I won't be dragging your sorry bones out of bed for the morning chores."

"Who said you had to?" Henna replied, eyes falling back to the datapad.

Maridian paused her work, hands on the comforter. Obi-Wan watched her hair fall over her shoulder, "When _don't_ I?" She stood, and moved towards the couch, pulling from it a hand-knitted throw pillow. She fluffed it and set it back, then swatted Henna's shoulders. "Go fetch a pillow from my bed, and a blanket." She looked up at Ben as Henna sprang into action, taking the datapad with her. Her eyes dropped immediately, and he looked away. The blush was evident on her nose.

Remy began to put away her things, and grabbed her piece of paper. She pressed it to her chest as if to hide the artwork, which was nothing more than an outline at this point. She nodded to him and walked past, as if his presence was the most casual thing ever. It wasn't - he noticed the tension begin to rise in the atmosphere. "Good night, Ben." She chirped. She didn't seem to have a problem with him.

He nodded and bowed politely to her, "Good night."

She shrugged and moved into the corridor, and vanished inside one of the doors. It closed with a light bang, and soon Henna came bounding into the living area, stepping down into the sunken in room. She handed the pillow and folded blanket to Maridian. "I didn't have an extra blanket, so I pulled this one from yours." Maridian nodded and stooped again to finish the bed. Henna moved toward Obi-Wan from across the room and smiled softly at him. He noticed her beauty almost instantly – she was trying very hard to impress him. "Good night, Ben. Sleep well."

He nodded, "And to you."

She smiled again and turned, moving back towards the corridor. "'Night, Maridian," was all she said, and waved at them before moving to the first door on the right of the corridor. She vanished down into it, and Obi-Wan stepped down into the sunken in area, pausing at the foot of the make-shift bed. He stared down at Maridian and she glanced up at him. He noticed she had a slight tremble to her hands. A pang of guilt hit him expectantly, and he kept his distance.

They both became suddenly uncomfortable. The atmosphere tightened. Obi-Wan didn't remember the last time he'd been alone with a woman in such a situation involving a bed – none came to mind. It was a painfully obvious observation, the undertones of the situation. He briefly remembered he had _never_ been alone with a woman in a situation involving a bed. His Jedi vows came rushing back to mind, as did his blood to his ears. _Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. She's only a girl._

He stopped mid-thought, and watched as she moved past him, mumbling a quick, "I'll leave a light on in the kitchen, should you need to get up." He didn't turn and stifled a yawn, stretching his neck to relieve some of the tension. She came back, but didn't step down into the area. He turned and looked up at her, slightly. "The refresher room is down the hall, last door on the left." She crossed her arms in front of him, then gestured to the bed. "I'm sorry it's not more. The couch isn't big enough."

He shook his head, staring bluntly at her. "This is fine. Thank you."

She nodded and looked away, fiddling with a curl by her cheek. He'd noticed she'd done that when she was nervous, "Alright. Good night, then."She began to move towards the corridor. He could sense her apprehension.

Without thinking, he replied, "Good night, Maridian." He stopped quickly. He'd never spoken her name before, had he? Obi-Wan suddenly couldn't remember if he had or not, oddly confused by the way it rolled off his tongue. He liked the way it sounded. He had noticed her pause at the corridor and put a hand on the entryway.

She glanced over her shoulder, "Good night, Ben." He felt something punch his gut lightly, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but like the way his name sounded coming from her. He shook the thoughts from his mind and she vanished into the corridor, extinguishing the lights as she went.

Obi-Wan situated himself on the floor and slipped his boots off carefully, sitting them up against the couch. The satchel he didn't remove from his side, instead btought an arm up to drape up over his head, the other resting on his chest. He closed his eyes and released an exaggerated breath, his hair falling into his eyes. He jerked it aside and took in a deep, relaxing breath. Instantly, he was hit with the smell of roses. His stomach rolled in a somewhat terrifyingly delightful way. _She's only a girl, Obi-Wan. Only a girl…_

But, as he took another smell of the pillow from her bed, he was fearfully struck with the idea that she was a lot more than that.

* * *

Maridian did not sleep. She laid in bed, her hands interlaced on her torso, watching the ceiling. Her body was keenly aware of the man sleeping on the living area floor, using her pillow and blanket. Her throat had clamped shut when he'd said her name and bid her goodnight – she couldn't recall if he'd used her name or not. Really, she could never really clearly recall anything around Ben Kenobi, except her wild attraction to him. It was beginning to irritate her.

She wondered why she didn't have these feelings around Talor – she found him attractive and charming, or at least she _thought_ she had. Her dinner with him and Ben had made her overly aware of the differences between the two men. Talor had seemed to be a ruffian in light of Ben's sophistication. She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, and brought an arm up under her pillow and supported her head. It didn't matter what she thought of _either_ of them. She needed to marry Talor and look out for her family.

The thought dropped a depression inside of her that she hadn't realized before. The feeling returned, this time as a gentle roll in her chest, flowing down her arms and into her fingers. She laid quietly and focused her attention on sleep, but her mind drifted back to Ben. This feeling had never been so alive without him around – he seemed to ignite it inside of her. She wasn't sure why. He hadn't mentioned last night and the episode, so she felt relatively certain he had seen nothing and had dismissed her concerns almost immediately. Her mind began to drift to their time in the barn and his curious eyes.

She did not realize she was smiling when she fell asleep.

* * *

Talor leaned back in the chair of the cantina, the night life rumbling and roaring around him in a clamor of clientele activity. Scantily clad waitresses worked the floor and drew his attention almost every time they passed by, but he had to pull them away when he remembered Maridian back in Talba. His eyes were reserved for her.

The man sitting across from him took another drink, his red skin painted with a mixture of scars and tattoos that Talor was sure were efforts of intimidation. He was a built man, not quite as big as Talor, but his credentials brought a keen awareness of his obvious power over the situation – over Talor. The Twi'lek man made him squirm, but he was ever in mind to keep it from showing.

"Jabba's not a patient man, Mr. Jukkuun. Not patient at _all._ " He had a devilish flash to his eye that only briefly concerned Talor as he lifted a glass to his lips.

He paused only briefly before throwing back a drink, "So I've heard."

"You would be wise to remember," the man continued, leaning forward and pointing a slightly crooked finger at him, "that you owe Lord Jabba a fine amount of money that he hasn't lost track of." The finger leveled at his chest, "and he is not gracious."

Talor nodded and clapped his glass on the table. "As I've also heard." He stared at the man levelly, "I have plans set in motion to pay back Jabba all that I owe him. Once I inherit the estate if the girl I am promised to, he will have his money. And with interest."

The man looked only slightly surprised, briefly. "A girl?"

Talor nodded firmly, once. "A girl. I am marrying her and inheriting her land. Her father is ill and will not be able to care for it in her absence." He shrugged a shoulder and cocked a brow, "A handsome sum of land, untapped wealth. Don't worry."

The man nodded, a smile ringing his lips slyly. "Well then. Your three month extension still stands, Jukkuun. Not one day later. The thirty-two thousand accumulates interest _quickly_ , depending on Lord Jabba's mood. As I said –"

"- he's not gracious, I know," Talor waved him off, "and do you _have_ to call him that even away from the foot of the throne?" his tone was that of disgust, "cause you don't have to play me up that you're loyal to him, if that's what you think." The music pounded into his head, and a waitress offered them each another drink. Talor stopped when he considered the man watching him. His hand dropped away from the tray, and she left suddenly.

The man frowned at him, "It's in the interest of the business." He stood and dropped some money on the table for his drinks. He scanned Talor over again and pointed a finger at him, "Three months, Talor. Three. Lord Jabba's counting."

Talor glared at the man, "Yes, Atonas. I understand."

"I'm glad." He said bluntly, then left the bar. Talor only leaned forward and put his head in his hands once he was sure Jabba's lackey was gone. A hole had formed in the pit of his stomach even before he'd sat down to give an update on his loan. He closed his eyes and his thoughts drifted to Maridian – he hated that he had to do this to her. He liked her. He would hurt her once he took the land from her, he knew. It sent a spike of pain into his chest.

But, he had himself to look after. And his best interest was what mattered.

* * *

 _Soft sunlight poured over the sheets of his bed, mixed with the warmth of her body already resting there, clad only in a light gown of white satin. Her ringlet curls fell down her shoulder and her chest, and she twirled one around her finger, bringing a leg up under the sheet of the bed. Her blue eyes watched him softly, a lost and dream-like look on her face._

 _He did not hesitate to climb into bed beside her, and slipped under the sheets smoothly, keenly aware of her body so close to his. He propped himself up beside her with an arm, letting his other slide along the sheets until they found her waist. He traced the back of his hand against the satin gown, a contented sigh escaping her lips. He gazed upon her for a moment, before leaning across the expanse between them and hovering his lips over hers. He was overcome by the smell of roses and honey, and she sank lower beneath him, under his stare. He moved his hand lightly to her torso, and gently traced his fingertips up the satin, until they were mere inches from her breasts, which filled the gown out perfectly._

 _He considered her a moment, finding her striking eyes had leveled him frozen where he rested. His throat clamped shut, and he felt his blood begin to rush south as she moved her hands to his chest, letting her fingers run against his skin. He felt his muscles tense, and tried to steady the tremble in his arms. One of her hands snaked up his neck and found his hair, the other running down his torso to the waist of his breeches, and dipped beneath them tenderly. He tried not to focus on the fact the neck of her gown was so low cut._

 _He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her deeper than he had ever imagined possible, losing himself in her taste. He stopped only when a chuckle erupted in a bubble from her throat. He smiled against her lips and she sighed again, him falling back into her kiss with a moan.. He lowered his head to her neck and took a hand, reaching for her own, and interlaced their fingers. His other found her hair and dipped in her curls, her bringing a leg to wrap around his waist; foot tracing his leg tantalizingly. He felt the chilled circle of steel around her finger, but ignored it. He didn't notice that the chilled loop reminded him of the one wrapped around his own finger, which was buried in her hair now._

 _Her breath cascaded down his neck as she moaned into his ear, "Master Kenobi…" the name brought a groan out of him as she looped her arm around his neck, her head falling back against the pillow as he supported himself over her, almost tasting the rosy smell of her skin. "Obi-Wan…"_

* * *

Obi-Wan awakened with a jolt, his eyes almost immediately adjusting the darkness. He had to remember he was still at Maridian's house, on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and down to his face, pulling himself awake – it had been so _vivid._ So…rea. Overcome again with the smell of roses from her pillow, he noticed his clothes were sticking to him like they were his own skin – drenched with a covering of sweat. He had to make sure he was alone; because he was sure her voice had been right beside him. It had been only a dream, he realized; though he was forced to reconsider the clarity of it, because all his blood had rushed south as if she _had_ been right there.

Obi-Wan considered this. He noticed he was trembling, and raised his hand slightly to focus on the slight shake of his hand. Her voice kept trolling through his mind like a broken recording: she had called him Master Kenobi. Obi-Wan. His _real_ name. He had known _him._ It banged like a cymbal in his ears and pumped blood into his heart quickly – this was _not_ good. He was dreaming about her now, and he _never_ dreamed. He _hadn't ever_ dreamed about a woman before, in such a manner as to make his manhood come so alive.

The Jedi in him briefly considered the repercussions – what did it matter now? The Jedi were gone, the Order extinguished under the Empire's reign. Obi-Wan had to consider the idea of this dream becoming a reality – could it? Could he _allow_ it? He wasn't sure if this was something he wanted to reason with, and it rivaled within him. He closed his eyes, but had to snap them open again when the vision of her in that satin gown floated back into his mind like a breeze brought wind to the desert.

He moaned, covered his face with his hands, and rolled onto his side. What worried him more than the potential for the dream's happening was the odd sensation in his gut, the warmth he felt spread over his skin when the vision of her returned again. He wasn't sure who he was anymore, and he wasn't sure _what_ this woman was doing to him. Perhaps it was loneliness. Desperation. He considered Bartholomew's statement: _A man like you wasn't mean to be alone, Ben. Exile is never good for a man._

But, exile was necessary. Obi-Wan just wasn't sure to what extent of exile he could stand.


	8. Chapter Seven

_The wind carried with it bits of sand that tickled her feet as she stood bare-footed on the hot sands, only briefly wondering why her feet weren't scorching hot. She could feel the heat of the suns' warmth spread over her skin, which was bare to the sunlight and immediately caused her to panic. She ducked, as if under scruntity, and dashed away from where she'd been standing, arms crossed in front of her. Panic flooded her chest and threatened to drown her resolve – she was exposed. The satin gown she was wearing did little to hide everything she needed._

 _She could hear the voice calling out behind her - the strong, patient voice that cast warmth throughout her body like honey. While it threatened to calm every nerve in her body, she resisted, and ran farther away across the sands; away from the voice, farther into the desert. She sensed him coming for her in long, impatient, confused strides; and it made her knees buckle. No one had ever run after her before –_

 _\- when suddenly, he was in front of her and she jarred to a stop. Instantly she looked away from him and fell to her knees, shame washing over her like a wave. She began to tremble under his stare, which was soft and gentle and tender; tears welled in her eyes. The coarse sand hurt her knees and moved against the gown uncomfortable. It cut at her legs and feet. She moved away from him, staring up at him through tear-stained eyes. "No…stay away…you can't see me like this…" her voice croaked now, throat closing in the terror of what she thought he'd think, "…there's so much to hide."_

 _But he stared, his eyes roaming over her in nothing but pleasure and pleased looks of tender love and gentility. She thought he would be feigning, but found no deceit in his eyes. Instead she saw sorrow, a painful and guilty expression in his eyes. He sank to his knees in front of her, and she froze. He moved a hand and grabbed her wrist, bringing it to his lips graciously – he closed his eyes and kissed the top of it tenderly, letting his other hand trace the delicate skin of her wrist. He opened his eyes and found hers, and she felt lost under his gaze. "There is nothing to hide. I want to see all of you."_

 _Her insides quaked. As he pulled her closer to him. She felt slack, as if a ragdoll, but entirely lost in his eyes. Such welcoming and careful eyes; one's that seemed half unsure of what they were doing but too entirely dedicated to turn back. She felt her heart begin to hammer as heat rushed up her body. She was sure he looking past her to the scars on her body – to the disease. She started to weep. "I'm afraid –"_

 _He cupped her cheek in his hand and traced his thumb over the faded scars there, his eyes never breaking from hers. "-there is nothing to fear. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen." He touched a curl between his fingers and tipped his head to the side, "…and I love you."_

* * *

Maridian bolted upright in bed, a sheen covering of sweat covering her body and causing her nightdress to stick to her body. Her curls were plastered to her face and she sat up for a moment in bed, gathering her breath. She looked around the room and saw that Henna was still asleep soundly, and that it was quiet. She noticed that her stomach was light with butterflies and swirling with movement – her heart was hammering, her skin hot. She was keenly aware of every part of her body that made her feminine, and she flopped back onto her pillow and moaned, bringing the blankets up to her chin.

He was in her dreams, now? How much more would this stranger plague her! She now knew her attraction to him was purely more than psychological – it was emotionally invested. She was sexually attracted to Ben Kenobi, there was no denying it. It had happened in less than a day – mere hours. She hadn't thought she'd become so enamored so quickly.

And, she hadn't thought that being enamored would be so _difficult._ She didn't feel attracted to him – she had always anticipated finding a man she'd like or having a crush on someone – because surely this was all this was, a crush – that it'd be a fun experience, and that she'd be giddy. Instead all she felt was guilt and…terror. She felt afraid of this feeling, her emotions, of _Ben._ But not an afraid that would be typical – an afraid of what she couldn't have, not for her well being.

It was a complicated mess, she reasoned. She rolled back over on her side, and reasoned she would get no more sleep. So instead, she got up and put her feet on the parastone floor, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and moved out of the bedroom towards the refresher room for a shower in preparation of her day.

After her shower, it was well into the morning hours before the suns had risen, and Maridian prepared light breakfast for both her and Ben. She fully intended to be back well before lunch, so did not rival with the idea of having to make breakfast. She came down the corridor quietly as she finished tying her freshly clean hair back in a high bun; typical breeches and sandy-colored tunic finishing off her look. She made sure her body was entirely covered, as it would not be such a luxurious day indoors today – she had banthas to ready for Talor when she got back. _Ordinary life_ , she concluded.

She stopped just past the corridor's entry, and looked to his sleeping form. He had obviously not heard her refreshing, for he was still snoring lightly on the floor; one arm tucked under her pillow, hair fallen in his eyes. He slept on his stomach, one leg outside the blanket. It was a humorous sight to be sure, and she smiled crookedly at him. He looked like an innocent child more less an intimidating wanderer.

It took Maridian shaking him awake at the shoulder to rouse him from sleep. At this she was persistent, as she had sisters that liked to lounge in bed all day, but Maridian found Ben was far more of a challenge than her sisters were. He rolled onto his back but didn't open his eyes, and groaned slightly at her persistence as she hovered above him in a crouch.

"Ben," she said sternly, "Ben. It's time to be up – a perfect time to leave, before the suns –"

He brought a hand to his face and yawned, barely opening his eyes at her. "Already?" He croaked, "It's only –"

She smiled at him and chuckled, " – it's well into the morning. Time to go." _Time to get on with normal life_. He rolled onto his side and rubbed the bridge of his nose. She stood and crossed her arms at him, "Unless you'd rather walk back to Talba,"

He nodded and waved her off, "I'm awake," he mumbled through his hands, which now covered his face, "and just so you know," he glanced up at her, "you're very good at interrupting people's dreams." He pushed himself up and staggered on stiff legs only a moment before he corrected and stretched his arms out, "I gather you've had practice."

She gave him a roll of her eyes, "So I've been told. It's a special skill."

He gave her a teasingly flat look, brushing aside his hair from his eyes. "If I'm supposed to laugh, I apologize."

Maridian chuckled, and changed the subject. "You like fruit?"

"If there is another answer to that question other than yes, I am unfamiliar with it." She moved into the kitchen quickly and gathered the fruit she'd sliced for herself and for him and set it on the table, with a glass of milk. "If you hurry, I can get you back and you can still sleep for a few more hours until Talor returns."

He was already sitting and finishing with his boots, and came into the kitchen with a strong presence. He shrugged a shoulder and eyed the food on the table, gesturing with a hand silently. She nodded and he promptly sat. Only once having taken a bite of fruit did he reply, "I think I'll manage. I was not meant to sleep long lengths." He downed half the milk in one gulp and she leaned against the counter. The feeling inside of her had all but subsided now. She'd opened up around him last night in the barn, which had been nice. She could sense he'd enjoyed her company.

Her dream came rushing back to her head, and she closed her eyes. Maridian quickly changed the subject, yet again. "When you're back to Talba you may want to inform Talor that I will be planning to bring my herd in tomorrow afternoon sometime and that he should have a place ready for the banthas."

"Previous business, I take it?" he bit into the fruit again and nodded in confirmation at her nod, "I shall tell him then."

She moved towards the door and took down his cloak, brushing off the bits of sand still left behind from the night before. "I would appreciate it."

Within moments the fruit was gone, as was the milk, and he was at her side, slipping into his cloak. He looked over his shoulder towards the corridor and then back to her, "I wish that your father was awake for me to extend my gratitude."

She smiled at him and slipped into her own cloak. "I will extend the message."

He gave her a light smirk, "Be sure that you do. And my regards to the chef – she has a talent for miraculous meals." She laughed at him, a lightness flowing over her resolve, and led him out of the house back towards the barn. "I don't think I can stomach the idea to returning to survival rations after such dinners."

A pang of guilt hit her, and her laughter dissipated. "That's what you've been eating?" she stopped and frowned at him, "I'm so sorry."

He gave her a light shrug and seemed to dismiss the idea, "We do what we must to survive." He then gave her a coy smile, "Hence the reason they are called _survival_ rations, I assume. I couldn't imagine eating them aside from survival purposes."

She laughed again and shook her head, opening the side door to the barn with a press of the control panel's buttons. She removed the tarp and checked under the machine again for leaks, and satisfied that there were none, opened the throttle and kicked the bike to start. It fired to life and she swung on, gesturing to the seat behind her with her head. He seemed to hesitate with the idea. "I didn't kill you last time," she confided, "and I certainly wouldn't think of it now after you've paid me such a charming compliment."

He smirked at her, "Did I mention that your floor is most comfortable?"

She rolled her eyes, "You're not that charming, Mr. Kenobi."

Ben laughed at her and shook his head, sliding onto the bike expertly, like he'd done it all his life. He slid his hood over his eyes and she flicked the lights to the bike on. She glanced over her shoulder, throttled the bike, and lifted her hood over her head as well.

* * *

The weeks moved by comfortably – and quickly – for Maridian since Ben's presence at dinner. She herded the banthas she had exchanged for Talor's land into the village as promised the day after dropping Ben off. Talor had not been there to greet her, being subject to an extended stay in Mos Eisley, and Manashe had informed her that Ben had taken to working on a speeder behind the livery.

Maridian had thought it best not to disturb him - for her sake as much as his - and herded the animals in herself. He had, however, seen her efforts and talked to her only briefly while greasing a wrench, covered head to toe in a mixture of fuels, oils, grease, and sand. They had exchanged pleasantries and had been on their way. The interaction had been pleasant and had reminded Maridian all over again why she liked him so much. A curse, to be sure.

Her regular tasks had given her much to think on about Ben – and, as she had suspected, the feeling had all but simmered to dead inside of her in his absence. It had only flared to life when he had talked to her briefly that one morning, but as she'd left for home and resumed her work, it had dissipated. Maridian could not shake from her mind the idea of the feeling and Ben being in the same vein. It would not leave.

He, however, had not stopped flooding her thoughts, regardless of his connection with her abilities. When she wasn't thinking about him, her sisters talked of him. How handsome and charming he was, and how his eyes sparkled with a life they'd never seen; how he had a shroud of mystery and yet an open easiness about him. Her father was enamored with the idea that he was a fine man with upstanding chivalry and morals. They had taken guesses about who he had been before Tatooine. Remy had reasoned he was a connoisseur of the arts; Henna the idea of a noble politician with wealth and a hidden secret.

Maridian had called them crazy.

And, to her dismay, when her family wasn't talking about him, he invaded her dreams. Mostly she just saw his face and heard his voice – in others he was holding her romantically, and yet still in some he kept his distance. In one he recited poetry. In another, he'd sang.

It was all driving her mad. While their dinner with Ben had been over two weeks ago, he was still in her house, very much. His presence was everywhere – or, the idea of his presence. She could hear his questions in the barn while she worked; see his face as she fed the animals. He was at her table when she ate; lingering smell still on her pillow and blanket. His laughter was with her as she saw to the pumps and tinkered on the speeder bike. Ben was simply everywhere, and it was _killing_ her that she couldn't get him out of her head.

However much he was still at her home, Ben seemed to be fitting in well with Talor, she'd heard. He was a hard worker and seemed to catch on fast, Talor had said, and was smart as a whip. He worked with his hands like no man he had ever seen before, and accomplished feats unimaginable to most Talban's within a day's time. He worked with such efficiency, Talor was unsure he wanted to let the man go. He was running out of things for Ben to do - except eat. Ben liked to eat. Talor was unsure of the man, but knew he liked him more than disliked him.

Just as unsure as he still was regarding her father' proposal for marriage.

It was now two weeks into breeding season, and Maridian was busier than ever. With growing flocks and promising deliveries, she was up to her neck in work and scheduling. There were many deadlines to make; many perimeter's to check and routes to plan. The hotter seasons would be rolling in before she had time to anticipate them, and they'd need a quick route for water. She'd mapped out large portions for scouting and had plans to expand the fencing for their growing numbers.

This particular day she'd found herself mending the fence to the east of the family's farm, about two kliks from the house. She'd taken the speeder and materials to fix the fencing, her hands busily working with the tools under the settling heat of the afternoon. She'd been out roughly an hour and was already plastered with sweat and sands, but wasn't put off. She'd only paused her efforts when she'd saw the figure coming over the dune far too quickly on Luna– spotting that it was Henna, she shielded her eyes as the girl corrected her direction and came directly for her, kicking the eopie's sides to make the animal move faster.

She had sent her into town for basic supplies – mostly mending threads and materials. Remy was growing taller by the minute and was in desperate need of clothes. The pack on Luna's back didn't offset Maridian as much as Henna's swinging off the animal and rushing towards her did.

Panic hit her like a rock. But, when she'd seen the twinkle in Henna's eyes and the smile plastered on her face, she relaxed. The girl had either seen Ben, or had done some other dastardly deed. "Maridian!" The chirp in her voice almost entirely confirmed the former.

"What's got you so excited?" She stood and approached the speeder, tossing the wire-cutter back into bucket on the seat. She delved her hand inside in search of a wrench. Henna leaned against the bike for support, catching her breath, "Did you see Ben, as you'd hoped?"

She shook her head, "He's with Talor, mending broken fence out by Naaa's property," she giggled, "I checked."

"Of course you did." She dropped back to her knees in the sand before the fence.

"But, that's not the news!" She clapped her hands, "you know that I've been trying to get West to let me sing at the Crossing Point, right?"

Of course she knew – Henna had only been dreaming of the time since she was Remy's age. She'd been desperate to sing every waking moment of her life, and she'd been vying to do it publicly for some time. Thor West owned the Crossing Point cantina, and Maridian had worked there the following weeks after her father's accident for extra credits. He was a kind man, and afforded man opportunities for growing musical talent - thought, his establishment was a bit shadier than Maridian would've preferred. Mostly of men and bedouin wanderers, she knew. She'd experienced their looks and tauntings before.

Maridian squinted against the suns, to her sister. "Yes, I know. Why?" She set to work with the wrench, practically feeling Henna's giddy joy pulsate through the air. Luna called out behind them, and she looked at the animal before going back to work.

"Well, he's said yes!"

Maridian tossed a look to Henna, "Has he now?" She smiled at her sister and stood, intercepting Henna in a congratulatory embrace. "That's wonderful, Henna!" She pulled back and touched her sister's cheek, brushing aside a blonde curl.

She nodded furiously, "Isn't it, though?" She clapped her hands and Maridian stepped back to allow her to bounce in glee, "I am beyond thrilled! All he asked was that you would come back to work for him for a few weeks."

As the words slid from Henna's mouth, Maridian's stomach slid to her feet. She could already feel the exhaustion settling into her shoulders. She sighed and let her head fall back and moaned, " _Henna_. You didn't."

The girl froze and eyed Maridian carefully, "He is in need of help, Maridian, and I –"

Maridian tossed the wrench into the sand and threw her hands into the air, exasperated. "Henna! It's breeding season, and the hotter days are moving in soon," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "and we're expecting twice the births than last year. I can't possibly dream of leaving to work for Thor!"

Henna's face dropped in despair, and her eyes welled with tears almost instantly, "But, Maridian! This is the Crossing Point – I've been dreaming of this for years." She stepped back, hand falling from the handle of the bike, "You can't take this away from me,"

Guilt pelted Maridian like a wave. She softened her expression and sighed, leaning against the fence. She rubbed her temple and thought out her options – if it were only a few days, she could muster the strength up and work it into the schedule for the farm. But if it were extended into weeks, as Henna had implied, it would be more difficult. Glancing back at Henna's desperate eyes made the decision for her. "No, I guess I couldn't live with myself if I did." She puffed out a breath, and reached up to remove the headwrap from her head. She moved it through her fingers carefully, "I will discuss negotiations with Thor tomorrow."

Henna squealed, pounced at Maridian and threw her arms around her in a hug. She squeezed tightly, "Oh, Maridian! Thank you, thank you so much!" She jumped up and down and Maridian nodded, stepping back again, "I – I'll take all the extra work on you'll be dropping –"

Maridian smiled at her softly, "- of course you will – "

"- and I'll…I'll make sure of the house too!" She bounced in a circle now, "Oh, Maridian, this is the happiest day of my entire life! Wait 'till I tell Papa!" She bounded towards Luna, intercepted the reigns, and rushsed down the rest of the dune towards the house, "Love you, Maridian!" She called over her shoulder.

Maridian raised a hand and sighed, "I love you too, sweet girl. I love you too." She stooped to pick up the wrench from the sands, the sand she'd gathered in her hands falling back to the ground to rejoin the other massive amounts of the abrasive earth.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Obi-Wan had spoken with Maridian, and it had taken everything within him to keep her off his mind.

He'd set his mind to putting all effort into working with Talor, but he'd found the idea futile. Talor's idea of hard work was brainless work, and Obi-Wan had seen to the tasks almost effortlessly. He could tell the man was running out of things for him to do, and it was making him a bit unnerved. Obi-Wan had not expected the man's business to be so light of work. He'd thought with Talba being a heavy trade route for livestock he would've been in business a bit more.

Instead, the man seemed preoccupied. Which had been fine, Obi-Wan had guessed. He'd simply instructed him on what he'd like done and Obi-Wan had seen to it. The times alone had been good for him to collect his thoughts and ponder and work with his hands – Talor didn't check in on him often, only sparsely. Instead he seemed focused on his dealings in Mos Eisley.

It had given him vast amounts of head-space to consider Maridian – which, he never failed to do. She was in his thoughts more than he was, it seemed like. The episode of their first night having met replayed over and over in his mind, as did the idea of the Empire. He'd only been able to escape the dream he'd had in his hours awake and working – it seemed to return like a nagging sore each time he fell asleep. If not in a dream, in visions.

It was eating him alive that he was letting her continue on being unsure of her ability with the force. He would have to do something, he reasoned, before she did it again. He couldn't risk her exposing him, or Luke; and for reasons he was confident held water in and on their own. He would have to at least teach her how to contain it and use it appropriately. _Just because you teach her to control it doesn't make her your padawan, Kenobi,_ he reminded himself. He could just teach her the basics and be done with it.

But he wasn't sure if that's what he wanted or not. The Jedi within him was bound to the ideal like glue, but the man inside of him was not. He was already emotionally unstable to begin with; he didn't need to add to the burning pile by intercepting the responsibility of a girl – a most beautiful, intriguing girl. He couldn't get her off of his mind now, having only known her two weeks. He wondered what he'd be like in two more, or a year, or…ten years.

He couldn't think about it.

But he did. He was well aware of her uncertainty of him – he could sense she was attracted to him in more ways than just their mutual use of the force. The way her eyes engaged when she talked to him and the way she responded to his voice were all subtle clues. She didn't seem afraid of him…just unsure. He guessed it was because she was inexperienced in the area of male suitors. He, for one, was perhaps the most clueless man on the planet when it came to the opposite sex.

What he wouldn't give for Qui-Gon's wisdom at this time. He had tried – and failed – to communicate with his old master through the force like Yoda had encouraged him to. His meditations did little to clear his head, as once he got to the state he either replayed the vision of Anakin in his mind or the episode with Maridian. If it was not one ill, it was the other.

He now found himself with Talor mending fence outside a man's property. Obi-Wan had briefly been introduced to the man as Nill Naaa, who was a struggling moisture farmer with a straggling fence built up for whatever livestock the family would eat. Talor had informed him that Naaa had a mind to sell his land – and livestock – for a life offworld, and that he was first in line for rights. It had urged him all the more to see to the fence's mending, with Obi-Wan's assistance. They'd left that morning, after Obi-Wan had noticed Henna Hail coming into town on the family's eopie.

She hadn't noticed him, and that had been fine. He'd just watched her carefully go about her business with Issik before Talor had taken him to mend the fencing at Naaa's. it was now well after noons when they'd completed, and as they cleaned up tools, Talor struck up conversation. "Have you ever been married, Kenobi?"

 _Oh no._

Obi-Wan's stomach pitched into his knees, but he steeled himself and bent to pick up a series of wrenches and drives that he'd used to repair a rivet in the fencing line. He tossed them into one of the saddle-bags situated on Talor's machine. He gave the man a furrowed look of confusion. "No, I haven't had the luxury." _Have never been afforded it._ He paused when Talor uncorked the canteen and took a long drawl of water. Obi-Wan said nothing more, hoping Talor would drop it.

He, unfortunately, didn't. "Me either," he sputtered and wiped the water from his stubble. He handed the canteen to Obi-Wan, and he accepted. "though you strike me as a man with a woman."

Obi-Wan shook his head mid-drink and removed the canteen from his lips. "No. I prefer to be alone."

Talor laughed, "If that isn't a lie then I'm not sure what is," he turned and began doing up the bag of tools. Obi-Wan corked the canteen again and moved around to the other side of the speeder.

"I beg your pardon?"

Talor shook his head and gave him a look that read I'm-not-as-stupid-as-you-think, "Don't deny it, friend. _Every_ man would prefer a woman in his bed over being alone. You certainly aren't an exception. Haven't met a man yet that wouldn't prefer that."

It was an awfully presumptuous statement, Obi-Wan considered. He paused a moment and considered it – he had, as a Jedi, always wondered why romantic attachments had been forbidden. To him it made no sense, as selflessness came often in the form of laying one's life down for another. The most selfless to him seemed to be that of laying a life down _because_ of love for another. The lines, however, had been hazy as a Jedi and never had been contemplated before.

But as the Jedi were no more, he assumed the lines were too. He just wasn't sure he was ready to accept that fact yet.

"I'm not like most men," Obi-Wan finally settled on a statement, which caught Talor's attention. The man leveled a look at him and laughed a deep laugh that seemed rooted in his stomach. He shook his head and ignited the speeder to life, stepping up into it and gesturing for him to do the same. Obi-Wan obliged.

"Yes, but," he pointed a sharp finger at Obi-Wan's chest, " _you want to be_. You want to be like us Talbans, but you're not sure how. Your in a different class, it seems like. Not that it's a bad thing, but you're different - and you desperately don't want to be."

The finality of the statement struck him between the eyes, and Talor knew it. He jabbed his finger into Obi-Wan's chest for emphasis and winked. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but Talor beat him to it.

"It's okay. I won't tell anyone. Secret's safe with me."

Obi-wan doubted it.


	9. Chapter Eight

As predicted, celebration greeted Maridian upon entry into the house once she'd finished with the fence. It had taken her twice as long as it should've, as her vision had started to blur behind stinging tears – not just from sand particles, but from the extra burden of negotiations with Thor West in Talba. She had washed her face at the pump before entering the house, however, and put on her best look of excitement when Remy rushed over with confirming news.

Maridian put a hand on the girl's shoulder, then tucked one of her stray curls behind her ears. Remy was practically vibrating with excitement. "Maridian! You heard, didn't you – Henna is going to sing at the Crossing Point!"

She nodded and looked across the room, where Henna was sitting on the edge of one of the dining area chairs. Her father was beaming at the other end, watching her with twinkling eyes of pride for his middle child. Maridian looked back to Remy and smiled, nodding. "I've heard – a very big accomplishment. I am so proud." Remy turned and fingered one of her own curls.

"This is exciting!" She clapped her hands, "Henna, we have to get you something to wear!" She turned back to Maridian, "The materials –"

Maridian had already caught onto their scheming, "I will see to it that Henna has something great to wear," she winked across to Henna, "don't worry. You won't be disappointed." Maridian could hear the hint of a sigh on her own lips, the shrug of her shoulders evident. It was more work to be done.

Henna's looks softened and she nodded, her eyes a bit sympathetic. "I know," she said bravely, "I know you won't let me down." She nodded to Maridian and then shifted her eyes to their father, and Maridian nodded her confirmation. Henna got up and grabbed Remy's hand and pulled her towards the corridor. "Let's go and see what we have to work with, hm?"

Remy nodded and the two were gone faster than a windstorm. Only once the door to their room had closed did Maridian approach the kitchen, dropping her headwrap on the table. She moved towards the cooling box carefully and opened it with a yank. Her father, she felt, was staring. There was silence a moment.

"She is so excited," her father sighed, "so excited and so blissfully unaware." He guided his chair towards the seat Maridian had taken, the chilled fruit in her hands. Her eyes were glued to it, but she suddenly had no appetite to eat it. He touched her shoulder. "You are a wonderful sister to be doing this for her."

She sighed and shrugged, giving him a glance, "She told you about Thor."

He gave her a sympathetic smile and nod, "Unfortunately, things always come with a price."

"It's just I always seem to have to pay it," she grumbled, scooting the chair back. He bristled as she stood abruptly. She set the fruit down with a slap on the counter, watching it roll away from the inertia. "I am so tired of _owing_ everyone something." She leaned against the counter and covered her face with her hands, "I am stretched every which direction and the more I work, the more we seem to go backwards." She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. She gave him a look and struggled to keep the tears back. "When am I ever going to stop? When is the world ever going to stop?"

Her father was quiet, staring at her. She could see his eyes had glossed over with regretful tears, and he shrugged in his chair, leaning to rest an elbow on the tattered arm of it. She'd worked six weeks for Thor – and watched younglings in Mos Eisley – for that chair. And it was falling apart, as was everything else. He rubbed his beard, his voice cracking in a croak, "I'm afraid the world doesn't ever stop, Maridian. All we can do is try to catch up to it." He looked away from her. "I should've never gone out that day."

She sniffled and cast him a horrified look, "You had no idea it would happen like it did," she shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It is not your fault." She sighed, "It didn't help you were doing everything by yourself."

They were silent a long moment, exchanging looks. She watched the regrets pass through his eyes like waves, all the years and "if only's" flaunting themselves in his mind. She could briefly see the pain and frustration and bitterness sift through them, and a pang of guilt hit her. He was struggling already with the idea of her caring for the farm – her complaining certainly wouldn't help the situation. "Don't worry, Papa." She moved towards him and knelt before his chair on her knees, grabbing his hand. She pressed it to her lips and kissed it tenderly, "I can do this. I will take care of us."

His eyes shifted away, "And sacrifice yourself doing it." His tone was angry and bitter. She froze, staring at him before he continued – his tone carried the undertone to an issue that everyone had been skirting around since it had been proposed months earlier. "You don't want to marry Talor, and I am forcing you."

The thought sucked the air out of the room, and all her resolve went out the window with it. Every bit of strength and courage she'd gained throughout the years had been tossed to the wayside. No one had asked her what she had wanted in a long time, and his observation confirmed all her fears: he'd seen. He'd read her. Her gut soured like warm milk, "It doesn't matter, Papa." She whispered, "Talor is a good man."

He gave a guttural growl, spittle flying from his mouth, "Not good _enough_!" She abruptly released his hand when he jerked the chair into a rough glide backwards, almost colliding with a dinner chair. She panicked, lunged for him, and he stopped abruptly, collecting himself from his rageful outburst. He sighed and buried his face in his hands, ashamed. "I am handing my daughter over as if she were cattle." She froze where she stood, taking in his form in the chair – his shoulders began to tremble. He looked up at her, tears trailing down his cheeks and into his beard, "I have failed you as a father."

Her mouth opened, aghast, and she approached him slowly, still on her knees. She felt a sob clench her throat shut and seize her heart in a steel grip. Her stomach plummeted first into her knees and then her neck in a burning rage. She took his hand in hers and pressed her forehead to his knuckles, "You haven't failed me, Papa," she whispered, her body trembling; tears threatening to come. Ben's words came to mind from their conversation by the speeder bike two weeks previous, "we do what we must to survive." She sighed shakily. "I will do this. All of it. Talor is a good man, and you and Henna and Remy will be well looked after once we are married." Her voice trailed and she squeezed her eyes shut, "And all will be well."

She didn't mention the pending payments collecting interest that they owed Jabba. It had been a longstanding loan of credits after her father's accident. Maridian had simply never made enough to see to their livelihood working for Thor or selling livestock – it had fallen to bits once her father's accident had ensued. Talba was not forgiving, nor was the desert – it continued to move, as did business, regardless if one kept up or not. So, she'd gone into Mos Eisley to Jabba's Palace in search of help. He had given it to her, but not without it's lofty price, just as many Talban's had before her. It was an unforgiving burden. One that she kept in the front of her mind, with all the others.

Her father wept quietly in his chair and patted her head with his shaking hand, "If only all could be well and you were happy, my sweet girl." He bent and kissed her head, and she looked up at him. A sob cracked her chest. "All we ever wanted was for you all to be happy." His hand found her cheek and his thumb stroked her cheekbone lovingly, "Happy and healthy."

She swallowed, "I will be happy, Father," she nodded and kissed the top of his hand respectfully, "I promise you, I will be happy." She vowed she would, at his feet, in that moment.

Even if she had to will herself to be.

* * *

"It's settled then," Maridian slapped her hand on the counter of Thor West's bar the next after noon; the glasses waiting to be polished rattled at the sudden movement. She nodded firmly and stuck out her hand to the man, leaning over the bar. "I'll work for you weekends in exchange for Henna's singing Friday's and Saturday nights." The very thought of it sent rocks into her chest, but she smiled at him nonetheless.

Thor West, an man in his mid-thirties with emerald eyes and hair the color of caf, did not lack charm or good looks – or, good old fashioned down-to-earth common sense. He was a man geared to make money and easily influenced by profits, as well as a man who was easy to negotiate with. Probably one of the nicest souls Talba had ever seen – far nicer than his father had been in her, or so Maridian's father had said. His hand met hers and they shook on it, and he nodded, "Glad you have you back, Hail. Look forward to seeing you around here again." They released their hands and he plucked another glass into his meaty hands and began polishing it.

She shrugged and gave him her best smile, "I _do_ tend to grow on people," he chuckled and shook his head at her, "But I'd better mosey. I got some business to do with Issik about some materials before heading home." She jerked her thumb towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded and saluted her off, "Yup. Lookin' forward to it, Maridian."

Maridian dipped her head appropriately and navigated the cantina expertly, avoiding the sultry stares from the few mid-day customers who'd stopped to smell the roses. The cantina was built underground in the sands, so she had to climb stairs to get back to level earth. Once there, she scanned the main street before jogging toward Issik's shop not four blocks away.

She found the man sitting on his stoop steps, a wad of credits in his hand. He was counting them swiftly and hardly noticed her presence – or, at least, he paid her no mind until a few moments had passed. Only once he'd finished counting did he raise a brow and glance at her, "Hello, Maridian," his lips upturned into a confident smile, "I saw your sister just yesterday. Everything okay with the materials?"

She nodded, "Never better," she replied, "but I'm here for some more of it. I'm afraid I underestimated how much I'd need." He nodded and got up, and waved her up the stairs, her following him into the store. They moved through the aisles until they arrived at the fabrics. He gestured with a hand.

"Anything you need, sweetheart. Let me know." She nodded and he slipped away, towards his office. She began sorting through materials, through greys and tans and charcoal colors – nothing appropriate for a dress for Henna. Maridian shuffled them around and compared prices, knowing she'd be able to haggle or strike some type of deal with Issik, until her hands found a light yellow crepe cotton.

Dusted with a light brown, the cloth reminded her so much of Henna that she refused to look at anything more after it. She pressed the ream of it to her chest and sorted through the remainding amounts for any type of material to go with it – for a shawl, or some type of band to wrap around the waist. After finding nothing, she reasoned to buy the yellow cotton and makeshift something at home later. Maridian rested the ream down and began measuring lengths, her hands working quickly and thoughts lost – so much so that she didn't notice the feeling resting at the base of her stomach, lodged like a rock.

"Hello, there," came the soothingly accented voice.

Startled, Maridian squealed and dropped the cloth from her hands altogether, heartbeat spiked. The ream hit the floor with a _thunk_ and she snapped her attention from it to the voice on the other side of the shelf. Her heartbeat began to simmer only slightly when she recognized the face and her body realized it was not in danger, "Ben," she put a hand to her chest, shaking her head. She dipped to pick up the ream, popping up and looking between it and him, busying herself. She felt the blush rush up her neck and pop onto her cheeks. _Embarrassing._ "You certainly have a knack for showing up out of nowhere."

He gave her a sympathetic smile, and gently moved aside more materials to stee at her through the shelving. He draped his arm along it and shrugged his shoulders beneath his cloak. He reached up to remove the hood from his head with the other hand, and she noticed his hands were dirty, and once the hood was removed, that he was sweating. "I apologize for frightening you," he looked apologetic, "I didn't mean to."

She gave him a light smirk, "I figured." She looked down to her hands and began to resort through the yellow cotton, having lost her measurements. "What brings you to Issisk's store?" She decided to change the subject, as he wasn't leaving nor seemed to have any intention of speaking. She felt that blasted feeling lodge itself in her throat, but oddly enough it didn't steal her voice.

There was a pause from him and he reached across the shelving, reaching for a brightly colored ream of orange crepe. It was obnoxious to even stare at, much less think of wearing. Her eyes followed his hands as he carefully navigated the ream through the shelves. He examined it and held it up, quirking a curious brow. "What do you think?" His tone was light and teasing.

She burst out laughing, then put a hand to her mouth when his face lit up into a smile. She shook her head, and gestured to it, attempting a serious face. "I really don't think it's your color." He was fighting off the urge to laugh, she could see it. "Doesn't go with the cloak."

He chuckled and set it on the shelf, "I think you may be right." His eyes found her hands across the shelf and he gestured to the yellow crepe, "That, however, is lovely. Is it for you?" He looked up at her and she shook her head again, a curl falling into her face. She brushed it aside.

"No, my sister."

He nodded, clearly lost at knowing she had two of them. "Ah,"

"Henna," she clarified, "she's in need of a new dress." She decided against telling him about the singing arrangements – the last thing she needed was his sympathy, or his presence at the Crossing Point. She was already unnerved around him, though less than what she expected. Maridian could sense he was easing into her presence as well. She finished her thought, "And yellow reminds me of her."

He nodded, saying nothing for a moment. Ben brought his arms up to rest on the shelf, and he looked at her before gesturing to it with his hand, "It will be most beautiful on her." She nodded in confirmation, noting his hesitance to the statement. Silence hung in the air like a wet blanket.

She began measuring again, and he posed the next statement. "It's been awhile since I have seen you," his statement almost rocked her back on her feet, "everything is well with your father?"

Maridian glanced up at him, marking her position with her hand and set the material down on the table. "Yes, everything's fine." She puffed out a breath, "Just busy is all. I can't afford to be away from the farm too much." She felt his gaze move to her hands, and she restarted again, "And yourself?"

He shrugged and stood, arms dropping from the shelves. "It's going well," he nodded as if piecing together his thoughts, "Talor's spare bed is far more comfortable than a floor, that's for sure." She cracked a smile at him and he scratched his bearded chin, "but I'm afraid I might be outworking Talor's idea of me."

She raised her brows, "Oh?"

He dropped his tone and whispered, "He doesn't seem to have a lot of…business," she suppressed a chuckle, "or at least he can't seem to keep me busy doing anything. I think a part of him wants to see me succeed, but the business sense of him is beyond himself."

She smiled at him and nodded, "Just you wait a few more weeks, Ben," she noted the last bit of material she needed and plucked up the ream from the table she'd been working at, "once breeding season has finished and the animals start birthing, you'll be up to your neck in business." She moved away from the table, him following along the other side of the shelving. He met her at the end of the aisle, a horrified look on his face.

Maridian might have considered the idea that he'd paled, if a blush of heat hadn't rushed onto his face. He folded his arms across his chest and furrowed his brow at her, as if puzzled. She bit her lower lip, sensing she'd made him a bit uncomfortable. "- you've never worked a breeding seasons with animals, have you?"

He looked up at her and his eyes found hers. "I'm afraid not."

She sighed at him and smiled, "You'll be great." She moved towards Issik's office, Ben trailing behind her slowly. He meandered, as if unsure. She paused in Issik's doorway, held up the material, and he looked up at her. "Cut me off some of this, Issik, and I'll be on my way." He nodded and she showed him the measurements, and took the ream for her. She fell against the doorway, crossed her feet at the ankles, and crossed her arms at the chest. She gave her attention back to Ben, "Don't worry so much," she waved a hand at him, "I come in every year to help Talor with his purchases anyway. You'll make one – maybe two – big runs to Mos Eisley to the main markets and cash in and then it'll be back to boring everyday life, working with speeders and fixing fences."

His brows rose a few inches and he blinked at her, as if surprised. She looked away suddenly. Her chest felt like a battlefield of explosives had set off within her, shell-shocking her body into an uneasy mess. She bit her lower lip anxiously. Perhaps she shouldn't have told him she came into Talba to help Talor with his livestock runs. He'd have to figure it out eventually, she reminded herself, and best to know beforehand. At least in her mind. She'd have to prepare herself for that later.

Issik returned shortly with her material, and she paid him appropriately. Ben watched their exchange like a pillar, silent and unmoving. She tucked the material under her arm and moved towards Ben, and slowed beside him as he turned and walked with her towards the door. They exited the shop and moved down the stoop and onto the street. There was awkward silence between them as they moved along, Ben scuffing his boots in the dirt, hands enveloped in his cloak. He watched his feet as if she were uninteresting.

He suddenly broke the silence, "Do you remember that place your father spoke to me about?"

She nodded, suddenly glad for a shift in conversation. "Of course."

Nonchalantly he stated, "I plan to buy it." This surprised her, and she let it show on her face. She found it interesting he wanted to move into the abandoned farm. He'd struck her as a wanderer, not a man to settle down. In Talba, of all places. He gave her a half smile and then looked back down at his boots, her eyes following. She noticed his cloak brushed the ground and was beginning to fray at the hem. It was filthy, as well. "You look surprised."

She quickly corrected herself, "Oh, no!" She gestured between them with her hand, "I mean, well, yes in a way – I –"

He laughed, "I didn't strike you as the settling down type, did I?"

She sobered up almost immediately, mouth clamping shut. She looked down at her own feet, and then nodded slowly. She had not realized how tall he was compared to her except in that moment. "Not exactly."

He chuckled and smiled, still looking at his feet. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of an enigma." His acceptance of it was refreshing, and also made Maridian take note. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, that feeling stirring around her stomach again. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. "But I get the sense everyone around here knows that."

She smiled weakly at her feet, still meandering beside him. "Everyone around here doesn't mind their own business," she shrugged a shoulder, stating it matter-of-factly, "you just have to learn to keep your business out of theirs, and you'll be fine."

He snapped his head up and looked at her, his eye catching the sunlight. "Wise words for such a young lady."

She deflated, feeling her stomach plunge to the sands. Looking away, the realization of his statement hit her like a punch to the stomach: he saw her as a young girl. A part of her reeled at the thought of him thinking of her anyway else, but another part of her ached inside. She'd be nothing more than little Maridian Hail to everyone in this village,'s eyes, besides Talor's lustful ones. A man like Ben Kenobi – a man who was sophisticated and educated and _mature_ – was no exception. She was a simple, dull-witted farm girl compared to the likes of what he'd seen, she imagined. Maridian had always reasoned she was good for two things in Talba: 1) her father's land, and 2) reproduction, and by his statement, she reasoned that he saw it, too. Her value didn't extend to more than that; especially with accumulated debts and the…offsetting disease – she was _not_ the girl for Ben Kenobi. He, she reasoned, was looking for a woman – not a farm girl.

Her stomach flipped when she caught her name, "Maridian?"

She jerked from her thoughts, and glanced up at him. She tried to hide the defeat in her eyes. "Sorry. What did you say?"

His face folded into a frown, "I just asked you how long it would take to get into Mos Eisley by eopie." She nodded and recalled having heard something about it the ramblings of her mind, "are you sure you're alright?"

She waved the thought off. _As good as can be expected for a young_ girl _, Ben._ "I'm fine," she said quickly, "And you don't want to go into Mos Eisley by eopie – you'd need a speeder." She caught the shrug of his shoulders, as if he were defeated. Without thinking, she added on, "My father would probably let you use ours if you wanted to check into the place." _Maridian! Stupid girl!_

Ben gave her a surprised – and hopeful – look. "Are you certain?"

She sighed, "Of course he would. You're practically the family hero," she mumbled the statement, having unknowingly guided him back to Talor's shop. "and besides that, we have an extra speeder we keep on hand anyway. All it needs is a fuel pump and a bit of tinkering and it'd be ready to go."

He smiled coolly at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling only slightly. It was attractive in its own right, and disarming. "It is a good thing that I seem to excel with tinkering."

She couldn't help but chuckle and shook her head. " _I_ do the tinkering around the farm," she pulled a thumb into her chest to prove the point, "thank you." His eyes flashed a light twinkle again and she gave him a smirk. "But, you're welcome to come and learn a few things if you'd like." _What are you thinking, woman? You don't want this man in your life – and he doesn't want you in his. Not in the way that matters._

He nodded and spotted movement coming towards them. They were clients that Maridian recognized as out-of-Talba's, who had come to perhaps do business with Talor. However, warning surged a path through her belly when she caught them staring at her in only the way that meant trouble. The one was a Twi'lek, the other a Zabrak – she recognized them almost immediately when the paused to ogle her with their eyes. They never came this far from the Palace, she contemplated. They'd never come to see her before. Terror planted itself inside her abdomen.

Maridian abruptly turned away, hurrying up the steps of Talor's porch. She reached for the door control and slammed them, quickly slipping inside. She felt her heart begin to hammer, sweat forming on her palms. She saw through the open doorway Ben, who looked utterly lost, stare at her with a wrinkled brow. He looked back to the two characters and tromped up the steps after her. His form stopped in the doorway, he leaned forward, one hand on the entry. His hooded face was blocked by the shadow having fallen over his face.

"Maridian?" He asked, concern flooding his voice. "Is everything all right?"

She felt her throat parch, and reached up to touch it, as if to make sure it hadn't fallen out of her neck. She said nothing, only fastened her eyes on Ben, her arm tightening around the package under her arm. She closed her eyes and calculated the times and dates in her head; the doings and comings and goings, the amounts of money – Jabba's Palace came rushing to mind, and she was shaken out of her thoughts by his lustful – and disgusting – eyes boring at her in her mind.

 _Two months. I still have two months to fix this._

Ben by now was almost alarmed, she could tell. He was staring at her with a confusion and worry that a friend would have. He frowned at her now. "Maridian." His tone signaled that she had better respond, and she nodded.

"I'm okay," she breathed, "I'm okay."

He didn't believe her. "All right then," he diverted the conversation away and stepped through the door, extending a hand to her arm. He fell into step beside her as they moved out of Talor's shop, and down the stairs. Maridian's eyes followed the two men, who had crossed the street and slowed to look at a vendor. "Let me see you off."

"Thank you," she somehow managed.

Perhaps it was a time to visit Mos Eisley and reassure Jabba the Hutt.

* * *

Obi-Wan saw Maridian off after the strange turn of conversation. He'd noticed the two men approaching quite a distance away, and really had paid them no mind until Maridian reacted so suddenly.

He'd briefly seen the terror in her eyes and felt the fear raise in the force before she'd began to think. She'd maneuvered into Talor's shop smoothly, away from the men's wandering and strong stares. He'd seen people calculate before – educated people who knew a thing or two about situations. He put together that these men were unusual in Talba as soon as she'd reacted, and that their presence had to have been trouble. He'd felt that much in the force.

But Obi-Wan was more concerned with Maridian's cold and calculating eyes. She seemed to be reasoning through her head all sorts of things that he wished he could understand. While fear stabbed its way through the atmosphere, he had perhaps underestimated the amount of maturity and responsibility the girl possessed. Obi-Wan had to exercises great strength not to press into the force and sort out what was going through her mind, and refrained from it. He respected her too much – or perhaps was too afraid of her reaction – to do so. It wasn't the right time or place to do this, he reasoned with himself.

He'd regretted his calling her a "young lady" almost immediately as he'd stated it – he could tell she did, too. She'd deflated entirely, which perhaps should've been a good thing to him, but wasn't. It was the farthest thing away from good. Instead, he'd wished he could eat the words and take them back altogether. He, as a man, was aware that she was the farthest thing from a young lady – a man would only have to look at her to realize that. But, as a Jedi, all he could see was the force-sensitive, inexperienced potential raw inside of her. Whatever had possessed him to call her a girl was beyond him.

 _You truly are the most clueless thing, Obi-Wan._ As he watched her speeder move through the walls and onto the dunes, he put a hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. _So clueless and entirely idiotic._

But, for the time being, that was a good thing. He may have been attracted to Maridian Hail, but by no means would he act upon such raw emotions. He would focus on her force-sensitivity and wait for the right moment.

And observe. Because waiting and observing was what Obi-Wan Kenobi was good at.

* * *

 **AN: Alright, so we've finally delved into the plot just a little! I wanted to point out that I removed the previous sections about Durango and the Sand People raids. I thought perhaps I would go that way, but decided to do something a bit different - I like the idea of Jabba the Hutt more. And, upon further investigation and plotting around the story, it makes more sense. Perhaps the Sand People will come into a different idea I have in mind and have yet to map out.**

 **Again - grateful whatever reviews I'm pulling out of you all. Hoping to land some more! Perhaps it's only because this is my first _Star Wars_ piece and it just hasn't garnered enough attention yet. I hope that changes! I so enjoy getting feedback on this piece - Obi-Wan's exile is one of my favorite archs in _Star Wars,_ and has garnered my attention and efforts for awhile. I so hope it does to you too! I appreciate the reviews - hopefully there's many more to come!**


	10. Chapter Nine

The Twi'lek turned to glance over his shoulder, watching as the cloaked man and the girl made their way swiftly down the street, towards the cantina. A wicked smile twisted his features when she caught the girl staring across the street them at him and his counterpart.

"She saw us," his friend hissed, glaring at the fruit he'd picked up into his monstrous hand. The Twi'lek turned and picked a piece up for himself and fingered the soft, tender parcel. He eyed it carefully and nodded to the Zabrak.

"Most glorious," he chuckled darkly, "she knows we're here. Too bad it's not for her."

The Zabrak's lips upturned into a smile, "But we _do_ owe her a nice… _visit._ " The undertones of the statement was enough to make Atonas nod at his friend, eyes flashing a lustful and terrible streak that he knew was dangerous. His friend bit into the fruit and Atonas flicked a credit towards the vendor, stalking away and biting into his own fruit.

"Patience, Matham," he shrugged a shoulder, "her time will come. We deal with the man first – she's an added bonus."

Matham's cackle was enough to even ice the Twi'lek's blood in the heat under the Tatooine suns. "Most excellent."

Atonas bit into his fruit, then tossed the half-eaten carcass away.

* * *

After a modest meal, Maridian had seated herself in the living area of the small house and had set to work on measuring the yellow crepe for Henna's dress. She wasn't set to perform until next week, but Maridian started for Thor tomorrow and her time would be scarce after that. She'd have to rake together what spare time she had to get this done as it sat.

Back turned to the goings on of the house, she didn't notice her sisters go to bed with her father. They'd bit her a soft goodnight without asking her what she was doing – Maridian had been distant most of the evening anyway, mind on the troubles she'd encountered in Talba that afternoon: first Ben, and then Jabba's lackeys. The former upset her more than it terrified her, as the lackeys did. She swallowed a thick lump in her throat, and set to needle work. Her brain fired in a hundred different directions.

First, the lackeys. She had two months to pay Jabba what she'd owed them, plus interest. She'd had a lot of it saved in the barn's loft, locked away in a chest. Maridian had been sure to keep careful track of the money, stopping to count it monthly away from the curious eyes of her sisters. Her father was unaware just how serious the loan was – he'd assumed it was from a Mos Eisley financial officer of more a more…professional vein. Not Jabba the Hutt. He'd been simply asking her about it sporadically, to which she'd replied, "It's taken care of."

However, the idea of Jabba's henchmen being in Talba had unnerved her, and she was sure Ben had noticed. It had taken one firm look from him to level her.

 _Perhaps he could help me…_

She dismissed the idea. He was a stranger with a strange background – not yet to be trusted, despite his kindness and heroics. She couldn't trust him farther than she could throw him – not that she didn't, but she couldn't. Maridian felt an odd sensation around the man – her abilities always seemed to heighten; awaken and make themselves known in ways she'd never experienced before. He both terrified her and excited her all at the same time. It was an odd set of emotions to be certain, but ones that she couldn't – for the _life_ of her – dismiss. And, Maridian didn't want to.

As she began cutting away the pattern and shape of Henna's dress, she paused; feeling a rush of movement through her senses. She exhaled and sat back on her legs, taking a moment to be still. Her stomach began to move slowly and swirl, and she dropped the scissors from her hands – they'd begun to tremble, slightly. Maridian closed her eyes as the feeling pulled her to stand, to extend a hand – she did so, tenderly, and paused for a moment –

* * *

 _Something hitched in her chest and – she saw him. In the back of her mind, she saw Ben Kenobi, sitting on the floor cross legged, head bowed and hands folded in his lap, holding onto something. Slightly unnerved but not frightened, she wrinkled her brow further and leaned into whatever the vision was, her fingers stretching out as if for more. She took a step forward and felt the surge rush through her again, and it drove her to stagger forward; the vision rushing up close to the objects in his hands. Two cylindrical hilts, both different – one thicker than the other, both silver plated with black hand-grips. Strong items that sent the sensation raging through her gut and into the base of her neck. He was motionless, and unmoving. She suddenly felt a wave of power run over her and it shook her, driving her to her knees and stealing away her breath._

* * *

Dizziness hit Maridian like a sandstorm, and the floor savagely attacked her. She hit hard, jarring out of the hazy spinning of the vision, drenched in a sheer coat of sweat. Her breathing became rapid as heart ran circles through her stomach and moved into her chest and seized her throat – what had _happened_? She took in her surroundings, and Maridian found herself safely in the living area of her home, the quietness now soothing and the stillness reassuring. She was alone – no had seen her episode.

She lay on the floor and rolled over onto her side, back colliding with the couch. She was still shaking, a bit from uneasiness, wrapped her arms around her middle, lying. She sat motionless, staring at the abandoned project of Henna's dress, feeling the burning trace of the feeling running a course through her veins. It almost _hurt_. Her head had begun to pound and she was still lightheaded, until she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. It began to control the shaking, and soon the pain inside began to subside. She, however, didn't move, and contemplated the events.

It had never happened before, this… _whatever_ this was. She'd seen Ben as if he'd been sitting right across from her, she could hear his breathing and feel his strong presence. He hadn't even moved or spoken or looked at her and she could sense him – it was as if he were stone pillar. He had been there, in Tabla; she'd been here in her home. Maridian could only make sense that this was the ability – a new level of it – and that it was a side she'd never experienced before. Briefly Maridian considered telling her father, but thought better of it. He may worry about her episodes again, and she couldn't have him worrying.

She pushed herself up and put a hand to her head to steady her still swimming vision, and brought her legs up under her, cross-legged now. She reached across the floor for the scissors and crepe, and inhaled a breath before setting to the work.

She'd just have to figure this out – like she had to figure everything else.

* * *

Obi-Wan felt it.

The movement in the force had jerked him from his meditation, and it had rocked him back slightly. He'd gasped and dropped his and Anakin's lightsaber's from his hands, and they fell silently into his lap – his eyes had snapped open, heartbeat racing; world swimming. Sweat had formed between his shoulder blades as he felt the shift of power surge. Obi-Wan had immediately sensed Maridian Hail in the force, and he'd had to set a firm hand on the floor next to him to stable his thoughts.

It had been a long time since he'd come out of meditation lightheaded – it usually didn't happen with accomplished and experienced force-users. But, this surprise had rocked him to his inner core – it didn't take much for his decision to be made. He had to get ahold of Maridian before she did something that they'd both regret.

As if confirming it, he felt the wash of the force rush over him like a wave of reassurance. He exhaled a breath and fell back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. He puffed out another breath, which moved his hair out of his eyes, and contemplated this course of thought: she may react negatively to this, he reasoned. She may not understand, or believe him. It could push her over the precipice – or push her _away._ Not everyone responded to the idea of force-sensitivity in a positive way. He'd seen it go south – some people refused the notion all together, or went to a… _different_ path than the light side. He couldn't think about it. While none of the thoughts were overly appealing, the last was almost devastating to him. He didn't want to lose the one person in Talba he remotely considered a friend – if she was even a friend at this point.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He'd have to keep her that way: a friend.

 _Somehow._

* * *

Before Maridian had known it, morning had drifted into afternoon. Her sisters came rushing into the barn like sand brushed from a dune, covered head to toe in sandbits and straw. They'd been forking in new beds for the livestocks all morning as Maridian had prepared for her first day back to Thor's – _and_ had tinkered with the extra speeder.

She'd informed her father about Ben's inquiry into Mos Eisley, and her accidental suggestion to loan him the speeder. He'd thought it was a fabulous idea and had assigned her the task of digging the extra out of the shed and looking over it. As her theory had predicted, it was in need of a fuel pump and a clean carburetor. Once those had been seen to, it would be ready for Ben.

Which had driven her to a holocall into Bestine for parts. With no such luck, she'd tried Anchorhead. Nothing there either. Tosche didn't have anything either. She'd tried for over an hour to locate parts, but had come up with only one place that had the fuel pump was Mos Eisley – and in the hands of one Sonika Turros, as fate would have it.

Sonika Turros had been a parts scavenger in Talba for many rotations before having moved into Mos Eisley for bigger and better clientele pools. She was only few weeks older than Maridian – one of the only Talbans to be of Maridian's age at all – and they'd connected almost instantly in the years before her father's accident. They had become closest friends to the point of sisterhood, despite their differing species and callings. Though, once her Twi'lek friend had uprooted to Mos Eisley, she'd left in her wake Maridian to tough out life in the desert village alone.

Despite geography, they had remained close with frequent holocalls and transmissions. Maridian made it a priority to visit every few standard months. She always paid a visit when she was in Mos Eisley, and though Sonika had never made it back into Talba, she'd known her friend would do the same.

"Sounds to me like you need to pay a visit," the Twi'lek said, a snark to her tone. She cocked a hip and crossed her arms over her chest, "serves you right for not coming more often."

Maridian balanced the device in her hand and smiled at her friend, tossing the rag she'd used to clean up her hands onto the seat of the extra speeder. "Tsk, tsk, Sonika – do you _always_ wish such bad luck on your customers? Or am I just that special?"

Her friend smirked, "Only for my _best_ customers," she vanished out of the call for a moment before returning with a datapad, "so – when're you planning to pick up that pump and visit me? Considering that you can't get it anywhere else."

Maridian gave her a playfully flat look. "Probably not until sometime next week," she looked away and sighed, running her fingers through her hair, which had fallen out of it's bun as she'd been under the speeder taking apart the undercarriages, "I go back to work for Thor today, and I've got to catch up on some farm stuff before I even dream of leaving."

Sonika gave her a confused and frumpled look. "Thor? I thought I you stopped working for him awhile ago," her tone was concerned, "Maridian. You can barely breathe the way it is. I'm worried about you."

Maridian gave her a weak smile and then waved it off, "I'm fine – I'm doing this for Henna. He's going to let her sing Fridays and Saturdays in the live band," her eyes drifted back towards the speeder, and she rested a hand on the handlebars. There was a moment of silence before she continued her thought. "I can't not let her do this. It'd crush her."

Sonika sighed and nodded, "I know that – and I'm excited for the opportunity for her; it's great and all," but she gestured to Maridian through the holocall, "but I'm worried about _you._ You're working to hard and taking on too much," her voice drifted, "I do wish you'd come into Mos Eisley and move in with me, get some schooling. There's a good life here, away from that cesspool of misery and… _gossip._ " Sonika was fully aware of Maridian's plans of arranged marriage and did not like it at all – and she didn't pass up the chance to remind Maridian of it. "You know that whole town is vying on you marrying Talor for its survivability."

She puffed out a breath and moved aside a lock of hair, "It doesn't matter what I know, Soni," her voice trailed again, "like Ben said – we do what we must…" she winced and pinched her eyes closed. She'd mentioned him, and she'd sworn not to.

Sonika would be curious now, and her face didn't hide it. "Ben? Who's that?"

"No one," she interjected quickly to her friend, waving a hand, "he's no one. A friend."

Her eyes sparked with hope, even beyond the holocall. "Maridian! Who is this Ben?"

She groaned, "Not now and a long story," she shook her hand, "I'll call you when I'm ready to get the part." She gave her friend a snarky smirk in revenge, "and perhaps I'll tell you when I see you."

She got serious. "If you don't, our friendship is on strike."

Maridian laughed, "Sure, tell yourself that." She began walking towards the house, "I'll call you later, okay? Be safe and I'll see you soon."

Sonika shook her head, her lekku falling over her shoulder, "Alright – but I want to know more about this mystery guy Ben," she wagged a finger, "I have ways of getting information out of you."

"I know," Maridian chuckled, "Later."

"'Bye."

She ended the call and stepped down into the house, moving towards the refresher room. Her sisters and her father were busy in the kitchen preparing lunch. Maridian slipped into the room, stripped her clothes, and bathed quickly. Wrapped in a towel, she ventured back to her and Henna's room and dressed for her night at the cantina.

Maridian dressed in the tightest pair of breeches she had – they were a buttery cream-colored, and clung to her body like skin itself, rounding out the curves of her hips and her strong legs. For her top she managed a light, off-white crepe shirt with loose sleeves and a low-cut, which she laced up nicely with the leather strings weaved into the front. She finished with her best boots, which went to the knee, and slipped in her utility knife along her calf. Reaching for the leather string to tie her hair back, she managed a high-bun, but missed tendrils along her neck and temples, reasoning they looked good enough to be considered potential.

She usually didn't wear makeup – she hated the way they made her look fake and made her feel hidden and masked, and that it made her disorder so much more difficult to control. But, she knew it was good for business – beautiful staff kept Thor's pockets lined and his customers happy, and happy customers assured Maridian of her deal with Thor. So, she disgruntledly added the sheen, light color to her lips and lined her lashes with the black matte finish. She added a dusting of their mother's fine powder, which had was laced with Coruscanti minerals and glitters Tatooine had never known.

And, after dabbing some rose scent behind her ears and on her wrist, she had been done dressing.

Her family met her at the door before she was ready to leave. Henna had draped over her arm her cloak, Remy her satchel with her canteen and other basic supplies. Maridian first intercepted Remy and slipped the satchel over her shoulder, putting a hand behind the girl's neck and pulling her forward to plant a kiss on her head. She rubbed the girl's back and then moved to Henna, who embraced her. She lingered a moment and whispered in Maridian's ear.

"Thank you," she breathed lightly, her voice cracking slightly, "thank you so much."

Maridian inhaled a deep breath and rubbed her sister's back reassuringly, "You're welcome," she whispered back as Henna pulled back from her. She smiled softly at her sister and then turned to her father, who watched with a guilty – and regretful – look on his face. She moved to intercept him and dipped to kiss his cheek, "I'll be home late. No need to wait up for me."

He nodded, "Be safe."

She gave him a light smirk, "Aren't I always?"

He rolled his eyes, "If you were, I wouldn't have to remind you," she moved up the set of stairs before pushing the controls to the door, "watch yourself. It's danger –"

Maridian nodded, "Of course, Papa. I know." She smiled at all of them, "I love you all. I'll see you tomorrow."

They waved at her and she closed the door, slipping into the cloak as the winds of the evening snapped it out behind her in a billow. It was unusually windy, and sands rolled across the dunes and sandy earth around her. The banthas had grouped together to shield themselves from the particles, and Maridian crossed the yard towards the barn. It was far too inefficient to take Luna into town, so she'd have to settle for the speeder.

Mounting, she pulled the hood over her head and throttled the bike to life. Pulling out of the barn's side-enclosure, she rocketed off up the dunes, until her house was out of sight and she was set course for Talba.

* * *

Obi-Wan came downstairs from Talor's upstairs apartment after refreshing from the day's work only to stop short when he saw that Talor was concluding business. His awareness spiked when he noticed it was the two men from yesterday that had startled Maridian so during their conversational walk.

They were leaving, and Talor came around and gave a surprised look to find Obi-Wan standing at the base of the stairs. The man had a look of relief that Obi-Wan knew only came from when one had experienced genuine anxiety. He looked at Talor curiously as the man dipped into his office, signaling for Obi-Wan to follow.

He began rummaging through his papers, and pinpointed the direct one he was looking for. Obi-Wan waited in the doorway, leaning against it with his feet crossed at the ankles, arms folded in front of him. This was their usual way of doing things after the end of the week – Talor would pay him, and he'd venture across the way to the Crossing Points cantina for dinner and an end-of-the-week drink. Sometimes Talor went with him, other times he didn't.

Talor slapped the desk and opened one of the drawers, dispensing from it a purse of credits – the spare ones he kept apart from his safe for easy access. He began counting from it and then looked up at Ben, "Another fine week of work, Kenobi." Obi-Wan pushed himself off the door to intercept Talor's extended hand, "I swear you get things done faster than a droid would."

Obi-Wan shrugged a shoulder and pocketed the credits, chuckling. "I told you I enjoyed working with my hands," he brushed aside his hair from his eyes, realizing it needed a cut desperately. "and that I wouldn't disappoint."

Talor grunted, "And that you haven't," he ran a hand through his hair, "Give me a few minutes to lock up and we'll be set."

Obi-Wan nodded and jerked a thumb towards the wall, "I'll go ahead and let Thor know we're coming," Talor's nod encouraged him to complete the task, but he asked anyway, "if you don't mind."

Talor waved him off, "No, no. That sounds good."

With that, Obi-Wan had left. He'd slipped his cloak on and pulled the hood over his head, noticing the winds coming from the east had picked up. He briefly wondered about Luke and the Lars farm, but brushed aside the thought as he listened to the liveliness of the cantina patrons pick up the closer he got to the establishment. By no means was it overrun – as Talba couldn't have filled a bus, given the opportunity – but it was livelier inside that any other time of the week.

He stepped through the door and lowered his hood, scanning the crowds. Something struck him in the force. The typical people were there – with a few travelers; the two men he noticed instantly tucked away in the corner of the establishment. He warrented they were the issue of his concern.

Not much bigger than Issik's store, the building was circular – the bar was curved along the western wall; a small stage melded on the northern. Booths were built into the walls along the remainder of the building, tables and chair along the diameter. Built simple from a form of stucco, it was an earthy place that didn't lack charm – but was greatly missing tact. Not anything like Corsucant; Obi-Wan had relished, but not offsetting either.

He stepped down into the building, as it seemed almost every Talban building was built into the ground, and West at the bar noticed him. Obi-Wan nodded at him and the man took notice, gesturing to the usual booth where he and Talor frequented.

He slipped into it casually, not shedding the robe. He scanned the crowds only briefly; noting the few waitresses who he'd never seen outside the building. He reasoned they didn't reside within Talba's walls and came and left work long before he paid notice. They moved carefully and navigated expertly; some clothed more than others. There were two, he noticed – one was a Togruta, which he found odd on Tatooine; the other a Zeltron with crimson skin and black tattoos. The Togruta woman was older; probably in her thirties and was modestly dressed, whereas the Zeltron was all the life of twenties and hardly wore anything.

He sat for a few moments before a waitress he hadn't noticed before whisked by his table. The smell of roses instantly struck his senses and he perked up. He felt the force move again, this time more significantly. However, when he went to look for her, she'd vanished behind the bar and into the back kitchen. His brow wrinkled and he sat, staring at the entry to the kitchen a moment, waiting for her return.

He was so intent on watching the kitchen that he didn't see Talor until the man had seated himself across from Obi-Wan. He situated himself in the booth and Obi-Wan dared a look to the man, drawing his eyes away from the bar.

"You look like you've run into the wrong end of a bantha," Talor noted, "something wrong?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. I thought I recognized someone, is all."

Talor raised an unsure brow. "I guess I didn't think you knew that many people already."

He shook his head, eyeing the bar again. The waitress hadn't returned. "I don't. That's why it's peculiar."

They waited a few more moments before the Zeltron woman stopped at their table and asked them what they wanted. Obi-Wan ordered his standard blue Keela, Talor a Lum. She moved away, eyeing them both, and stopped at the bar. Thor nodded to her and she turned away, moving towards the kitchen and called into it. Brushing off his uncertainty, Obi-Wan drew his attention back to the table, and away from the bar activity.

He listened intently as Talor rambled on about his business in Mos Eisley the week before – how it had been stronger than he'd anticipated, and warranted great profits given their successful breeding season. Obi-Wan could hardly pay attention, however. The force was pulling inside him now, rushing through his body so swiftly that it jarred his nerves almost to the point of pain. He made purposeful movements to keep Talor engaged, but rivaled with the feeling lodged in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes and focused his breathing quietly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

He didn't notice Talor had stopped talking.

"Hello there," came the disarming tone. It was slightly playful, with a hint of surprise to it.

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open and his hand fell sharply to the table. Shocked beyond belief, he gave his attention to the end of their table, where; bearing a tray under one arm and a small datapad in the other stood none other than Maridian Hail. Obi-Wan was certain his look of shockw as evident, but when neither of them seemed to notice, he reasoned he was only overreacting in his head. She seemed amused at seeing them, but also a bit surprised.

Talor, however, seemed more than excited to see Maridian, given the way his eyes scoured over her body as if they were starving of it. Obi-Wan didn't appreciate the way the man's eyes flecked with a lustful appreciation, and had to steel his fists into a ball under the table. He reasoned that Maridian was used of it, given her eery calm in the force. He was probably making more of a deal out of it than she would've. But, when she dropped her gaze away, he knew he was wrong – she was all of innocence.

"Maridian," Talor trolled her name and quirked a brow, "you're working for Thor again." Still lost, Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled into a confused expression. _Working for? Again?_ As Talor and Maridian exchanged glances, he was desperately trying to piece together the turn of events. So the force hadn't steered him wrong – it had alerted him to Maridian's presence here. It, however, didn't answer his question of _how_ and _why_ this girl was everywhere he seemed to be. Perhaps it was coincidence, he reasoned – or, maybe it was the force's will. Either way, it had seized his attention and left him grappling for words.

She shrugged and finally spoke again, "It would seem that way," she shifted her gaze over to Obi-Wan, and he felt his throat catch. He felt oddly welcome to her presence, but also strangely far away – she seemed to be keeping him at a distance, but at the same time beckoning him to come. He thought of the previous night and his feelings of her in the force. "hello, Ben." She addressed him now, though he was pretty sure his brain wasn't formulating intelligible responses anymore.

He surprised himself with intelligible words, "Hello,"

She nodded to both of them, then gestured to the bar. "Miva was supposed to see you guys through the evening, but she handed you off to me," she pointed to herself and gave them a clumsy smile.

"Aren't you lucky, then?" Talor teasted her. Obi-Wan gave him a slightly offset look, thinking the move inappropriate – and highly untactful. He, however, didn't pick up on it and slapped the table. "I'm not going to get anything to eat, sweetheart, but I'll have my Lum."

 _Sweetheart?_

She nodded, and her eyes floated over to him. They were full of depth, but lacked the usual twinkle of passion and life Obi-Wan had come to recognize. "You want anything other than your Keela, Ben?"

He shook his head, along with his hand as if to offset the question. "No, I'll be fine." She nodded and took a step back from their table.

"I'll be back then. Hold on." She vanished into the crowds of patrons, his gaze wandering over her a bit longer than he felt comfortable with. But, try as he might, he couldn't look away from her – not when everything had happened like it had, and certainly not when she looked so…different.

A different beauty was about her, he realized. It was the entrepreneurial trap that cantina owner's set before their patrons – beautiful waitresses – and Obi-Wan knew he was falling into it like he never had before. He had noticed immediately that she was wearing make-up. Despite the fact that it was only in natural tones, he noticed that it had betrayed her features. Anyone willing to look deeper into her would see that she was a woman of natural tastes.

As he kept a close eye on her navigation of the cantina, he noticed that it came easily to her, and that she moved with natural ease. Probably traits picked up from previous workings, as Talor had mentioned.

His eyes wandered from there, unbeknownst to him. Obi-Wan watched Maridian navigate tables, he couldn't help but notice that her breeches were skin tight and clung to her legs, accentuating them perfectly in the right places – he, oddly enough, was attracted to the fact that her legs met in the middle, thighs touching. Her longsleeved crepe shirt hung loosely and hid the curves he knew were there, and her hair was perfectly placed into a high bun with just the right amount of loose tendrils falling around her face –

 _-what are you doing?_ He reasoned with himself, dropping his eyes to the table, _Get ahold of yourself, man._ The force, however, swirled even strong within him, almost to the point of causing him pain. It was that nagging feeling he had gotten the first day he'd met her. He tried to pay it no mind.

Talor chuckled suddenly, jarring him back to reality. "Quite the sight, isn't she?" Obi-Wan hadn't notice that Talor had been watching her as well – or that their drinks had arrived at the hands of the previous waitress, Miva. "A feisty one, that one."

He lifted a curious brow, wrapping his hands around the blue Keela. "I don't quite follow your meaning," he lifted the glass to his lips and took a quick drink, "she seems kind enough to me." Of course they were talking about Maridian, and he knew his statement was wholly true. But he also knew that Talor's voice carried an undertone to an issue that he himself had been trying to pinpoint since having met the girl.

Talor shrugged his shoulders and took a drink of him Lum, "Oh, don't me wrong, she's _kind_ ," he stressed the word and gave Obi-Wan a coy look. "But she's a strong girl. Like I said, feisty."

He shook his head, "I still don't follow."

The man sighed and situated himself in the booth, putting his hands on the table. He brushed aside his glass and gestured with his hands, "She's _opinionated_ , Kenobi. Strong-willed and stubborn," he looked over his shoulder at the bar, to where she was talking with Thor West, Obi-Wan's eyes following. Talor looked back at him, and then sat back in his seat. "But I suppose you don't get that quite yet."

He stopped mid-drink. "What do you mean?"

Talor cracked a smile and then slapped the top of the counter, "I mean, Ben – she's got you fooled," he gestured with his hand again to Obi-Wan, "she's got you thinking she's this sweet and kind, young and spry farm girl. She's got the doe eye look," he winked at him, "I suppose because you're a newcomer."

Obi-Wan finally got the man's meaning, though only in pieces. "So you're saying she's not being herself?" He reasoned this was because of the force, and her sudden attraction to him. She was as much beside herself as he was, he imagined. It would unsettle even a deeply rooted tree.

He continued with a nod, " _Exactly_. If you'd seen her in action, I doubt you'd think she was _kind_." He stressed the word again, as if it were inappropriately used. Obi-Wan stared into his Keela moment, considering Talor's words. An uneasiness came over him – though not about Maridian. He didn't like the way this conversation was steering. And he certainly didn't like the way Talor Jukkuun thought – he'd kept track of the lewd comments and inappropriate stares. "She's a spitfire," he concluded.

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, eyeing Talor carefully. "I can sense she has passion." He looked past Talor briefly at Maridian, who swiftly vanished into the kitchen, "Passion, and also potential." _Great potential._

Talor shrugged, "Two traits lost in the desert." He took another drink of Lum.

Obi-Wan blinked and considered the man's statement. _Maybe lost,_ he concluded in his thoughts, _but all things lost can be found by the right person, eventually._

And Obi-Wan was of the notion that she was the right person.

* * *

"Maridian!"

The sudden call of her name jarred Maridian from her task of pouring ale, which resulted in the drink spilling over the side of her glass and onto her hand. She sighed and set the bottle down abruptly, the contents inside swaying.

Miva waved her over away from the bar towards the entry into the kitchen, Maridian coming over and running one of the bar-rags through her wet hands, which smelled terribly of ale which she'd spilled over only moments before. She came through the door only to find the other waitress, Xee, staring past her into the dining room.

Both of the aliens seemed to be on pins and needles, she noticed. She looked between them. "What's up?"

Xee pointed out to the dining area, and Maridian turned to follow her finger. It was pointed at Talor and Ben. "Who is that with Talor?"

She shrugged, "That's Ben," she wrinkled her brow, "why?"

"We've been trying to figure out who he is," Xee motioned between the two of them, "he's wonderfully handsome." The Togruta's voice trailed into a dreamy tone as she grabbed for a dirty stack of plates she'd abandoned on the counter, "He's not from Talba," she confirmed.

"No," Maridian shook her head, "but I don't know where –"

Miva interjected, "He's been staring at you all night," she wiggled her brows suggestively, "are you two friends or something?"

Maridian moved across the kitchen to the bussing counter, where she began scraping dishes into a disposer. She worked diligently as the two women came over, their eyes desperate for the gossip the situation promised. "Yes, we're friends," she concluded.

They shared a look, and said nothing more. Their silence, however, spoke everything. Maridian inwardly sighed and tossed the fork she'd been using into the soapy tub of water with the others. Her head was already pounding and she'd already had her fill of the lewd comments and disgusting stares of the patrons – she didn't need hanging innuendo's and assumptions from the two alien women.

She turned, delved her hand into the soapy water, and began sorting eating utensils.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks to the anonymous reviewer who made my day - I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and that it makes your day! I'm hoping it becomes near and dear to a lot of you, since it's so close to me. It's very personal on a lot of levels, and I hope it communicates what I see in it. There's such great potential.**

Thanks so much for tuning in - can't wait to see what you guys have to say! ;)


	11. Chapter Ten

Obi-Wan was still unsure of the events that had transpired, even after his conversation with Talor about Maridian had fizzled into nonexistence. He was beginning to become leery of his employer, but still did not have enough to base a fair judgment on. He certainly understood the man had the manners of a doormat, and his respect for women was about a centimeter deep. Two very negative qualities that Obi-Wan found lecherous and repulsive.

However, the man was far too experienced to not share some of his desert stories with a newcomer, so Obi-Wan lent the man one of his ears and halfheartedly listened to the tales. His other ear he kept on the activity of the bar, most of his senses fully given over to the mixtured swirls ensuring about the force. He watched Maridian from the corner of his eye, and had to admit that Talor had been partially right.

He had the suspicion that there was much more about Maridian than the centimeter-deep pool he knew about her. Besides knowing she was force-sensitive and a bit flustered around him, she seemed to have a genuinely personable attitude. She engaged her customers with smiles and light conversation, making meaningful eye contact and movements. She endured lecherous stares and brushed off forward men as if they were sandbits tossed onto her from a days work on the sand ranges. He noticed she laughed for more than he would've guessed, and that she had a most terrific smile. She radiated youthful passion in a dimly lit pit such as the Crossing Point cantina.

She would make a wonderful friend, he reasoned. Someone genuine; that much to be certain. Genuine, and _real._ He had not yet met one person in Talba that he would trust father than he could throw them without use of the force, besides her and her family. They seemed like good people – good people sentenced to a grueling misery on Tatooine. But, what was more – they seemed capable to survive such conditions, which spoke more than the idea of hem being good people.

Needless to say – Obi-Wan liked this girl, and he hoped it was more because he thought she was a grand person than it was his own libido.

While he hadn't failed to disengage _entirely_ with Talor yet, he had also not forgotten the two men across the bar in the back booth that had startled Maridian. A Twi'lek with crimson skin and black tattoos, and his companion; a Zabrak with emerald skin and black markings, matched with the distinctive dark horns. Both of the men were muscle; he could immediately sense they had the pride of a name not their own – whoever they worked for had deep pockets, and where there was deep pockets, there was often a brash bravado that gave them cause.

And also, that usually meant there was a victim.

Obi-Wan had sensed Talor's uneasiness most of the night, apart from the lust that radiated off the man's body language. He scoured every waitress that walked back and then some, but he hadn't been able to mask his anxiety from Obi-Wan's abilities. He was unsure about _something_ in this bar, though Obi-Wan had yet to distinguish it. He guessed he was just tired, or that business hadn't been the best. But, then he recalled his running into Talor's business deal earlier that evening –

-with the two suspicious lackeys.

He bristled. Perhaps he should be careful around Talor – he hadn't considered he could be in with the wrong people way out here on the dunes. Then again, he reasoned, even lackeys had to eat, and Talor would be the man to buy from. He wasn't sure of the entirety of the situation, and determined to keep an eye out for trouble. If things got bad, he could duck out of work for Talor and not lose much. Hopefully he'd be able to contact Organa sometime and get some type of financial security, though he didn't like using technology. It always had a way to go back to someone, and he didn't want to take chances with the Empire. Or Luke, or this force-sensitive girl either.

Talor interrupted his thoughts suddenly with a sharp slap of the table with his knuckles.

Obi-Wan jarred back to reality as the man spoke. "Well," he scratched his beard, "I should probably mosey on home," he sighed deeply, "I'm beat. Day comes early tomorrow."

Obi-Wan nodded. He'd mentioned about a business deal in Bestine that might take him out of Talba. Obi-Wan already had plans to check the eastern perimeters of Talor's land tomorrow morning anyway to make preparation for herding grounds, which would take most of the morning. "That it does."

He nodded, "You hangin' around long, or are you following me?"

Obi-Wan nodded to his drink and lifted it, which was still half full. "I think I'll hang around awhile." He ran his fingers through his hair, "Would you care terribly if I went a bit farther to the west? There's something I'd like to look into that way."

Talor didn't seem to press the issue, or care to greatly of the proposition. "Nope. Just make sure the speeder's got fuel and you're golden," he winked at the man, "I trust you, Kenobi."

Obi-Wan didn't feel reassured and nodded to Talor his understanding, "I thank you then."

He chuckled, "Have a good one, Ben."

Obi-Wan gave him a light smile. "And you as well, Talor."

With that, Talor tossed a few credits on the table top and left him. Which was fine, he reasoned – he would quietly people-watch anyway and preferred to be alone with his own thoughts. He still hadn't taken off his cloak and felt warm, but reasoned he didn't mind. He drank his Keela and watched the crowds of the bar come and go, some engaging at the bar and others minding their business over dinner. Most of the patrons seemed to know one another, stopping to talk and make conversation.

Soon his Keela was gone, and he glanced at the glass. Moving it in his hands, he wondered if it would be too bold to move to the bar – if it would speak too much about him or not. He'd noticed Maridian was busy working behind it with the Zeltron waitress instead of taking tables, and he liked the idea of being closer to her to engage her in conversation.

Reasoning his motives were appropriate, he slipped out of the booth and approached the bar, clanking his glass on the counter and sliding it towards the Zeltron woman. She looked up and did not hide the fact that she gave him a once-over more than once. A devious smile that he was sure had tricked many a man into her schemes painted onto her lips, and she put a hand on the bar and reached for the glass. She cocked her hip and tossed the bar rag over her shoulder.

"Whaddya havin', sweetheart?" She drawled. Her voice was thick and raspy, oddly strange to him and not the least bit attractive. He reasoned she was as desperate as the next woman in line for anything that was fresh and new to the area. He politely smiled at her and folded his hands on the bar and gestured to the glass.

"The same. A blue Keela, please."

She smiled at him and winked, "You got it, hon." She set to work on the drink, and he noticed Maridian spin around quickly. She blinked at him a few times, before he nodded to her and waved. She wiggled her fingers back tentatively and gave him an awkwardly crooked smile. She looked relieved, almost, at the sight of him.

He wouldn't lie and say he didn't feel a bit lighter being closer to her, too.

* * *

Maridian had stopped taking table's shortly after Ben had seated himself at the bar and looked rooted, as if he'd stay awhile. She engaged the idea that he'd moved closer for conversation, as she reasoned she was the only person he knew in the place besides maybe Thor. She worked busily pouring drinks and prepping glasses for Xee, who'd taken most of the riffraff on the floor. Between her and Miva, they had the tables well in hand; leaving Maridian to tend the bar alone.

Which she didn't mind. She felt more in control behind the bar anyway, with the thick counter to separate her and the lecherous thugs that came into Thor's cantina. She navigated drinks smoothly, as Thor had taught her when she'd come to work for him before – at that time it'd been him and his wife, with a cook and no other staff. He'd taught her everything about the bar and the kitchen, and she'd picked up tables on her own. She much preferred the bar, however – she didn't have to say much, and just had to give the customers what they wanted.

But, however, she felt like she wanted to say a lot with Ben there. For the time of night the bar was pretty sparsely occupied; most people vying for food at the tables, where they could get their hands all over Zee and Miva, who didn't seem to mind the attention. It wasn't unusual for the patrons to feel up the waitresses – it came with the territory in Talba. Not one for that type of advances, she'd opted almost every night to take the bar and left Thor and his wife to the floor.

She poured a strong Space Ale and slid it down the counter to a quiet Duros, who hadn't said two words since seating himself. She moved with her bar rag, clanking glasses as she collected them and moved them around, until she stopped before Ben. She ran the rag through her hands and he looked up from the drink Miva had refilled. Maridian got the sense he didn't know what to say since moving to the bar. She, however, tried not to read into the act too much.

She smiled at him, "Lonesome back at the booth, huh?" Her stomach jumped into her throat. She hadn't noticed her palms had begun to sweat, so she ran her hands through the rag again.

He shrugged and swirled the contents of the blue Keela in his glass, "You saw Talor leave," he confirmed.

Maridian nodded. "Yeah. You notice thing from this angle."

He chuckled and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He was wearing that tawdy cloak still. "I can imagine so." He took a drink and she crossed her arms in front of her. He looked her up and down briefly, but tried to hide it. "Tell me something."

 _Well, this is new_. Ben was getting courageous – or comfortable – in conversation with her. He flipped the conversation, and she found that she liked it. The timbre of his voice was almost captivating. She shook herself out of her trance. She smiled at him and shrugged, determined to snip back at him. She couldn't be shy _all_ the time, she reasoned; he'd seen enough of that in her. She would try to be herself – which would be difficult, because he made her feel a rush of different personalities and feelings at once. "Well, that all depends on the something you want to hear."

He nodded, "Fair enough." He situated his elbows on the counter and held the Keela in his hand, gesturing with it at her. She noticed his eyes catch the light at the bar, almost an indigo now in the off lighting. He wrinkled his brow inquisitively and squinted his eyes at her. "What are you really like?"

Without thinking, she laughed at him almost immediately as the words slipped off his well-accented tongue.

It surprised him, as his brows shot up, not having expecting her reaction. A hand flew to her mouth and she contained her laughter, trying hard not to smile. She let it fall from her mouth a few moments later and sighed, reaching for a glass and the bar rag from her shoulder. "That's a presumptuous question."

"Well, I have known you roughly two weeks, and I get the idea you're not being _entirely_ straightforward with me," he got serious now, and gestured to her. "there's something more under there," he scanned her up and down with his Keela-bearing hand, "and I can't figure it out."

She raised a brow. "What makes you think that?" Something pricked within her – a type of warning she wasn't sure about. Perhaps he'd picked up on her ability? No, it was impossible, she concluded. Never before had anyone been able to sense her ability. It began to kickstart her heartbeat, but by the look in his eye, she got the idea he was more talking about her personality. Which was warranted, she would confess. She hadn't been herself when she had encountered him, on all counts. She'd been a mess of emotionally unbalanced hormones and fear every time she'd seen him, or some other type of anxiety. It really wasn't fair first impression.

But how much of her did she really want to reveal to Ben? She wasn't sure. He seemed kind enough, but she still didn't know enough about him to feel entirely safe. While she got the idea he was genuinely trying to befriend her, she was also a bit apprehensive. If she told him everything about her – there'd be nothing left for him to chase. And chasing her was all part of the fun –

- _what are you thinking_? She chastised herself again, _You don't want this man to chase you._ While she couldn't afford such a luxury, she knew it was a lie she told herself to make sure she felt better – she did want Ben to chase her. She was head over heels infatuated with this strange, accented man; so sexually attracted to him that it scared her half to hell. She was oddly attracted – and curious – about him.

She was, after all, as woman as the next hot-blooded female.

He was waiting for her reply, she noticed, with a quirked brow. She cleared her throat and sighed, eyeing the glass in her hands. He answered her question, "Well," he began, "from my observations, you seem to be quite a conversationalist," he smiled at her, " _and_ you seem rather quick on your feet and capable. Very outgoing." He gestured to her. "Shall I continue?"

She gave him a pull of a smile on her lips, "Maybe,"

He nodded as if in satisfaction. "Well then," he cleared his throat and threw back a drink, "there's also the fact that everyone has warned me about you being a bit of a spitfire, so, I logically assumed you weren't being straightforward, as you don't' seem to be all of the bravado that people say you are. At least around me." He shrugged nonchalantly and then took a drink. "So, either you're not being entirely honest, or I'm afraid you may be bi-polar."

She stood there, smiling at him like a moron, a bit shocked. Her facial expression must have shown it, because he gave her a smirk. "I'm warm, aren't I?"

"You're quite the observer, Mr. Kenobi."

"I've had practice."

She nodded and turned, reaching for a bottle of whatever Miva was serving, as she eyed the waitress coming towards the bar with a stack of empties. She uncorked the bottle and took a whiff and then looked back at him. She decided she'd be nice and give him what he'd so diligently been digging for. "I'm afraid you're right," she gave him a playful side-glance, "you've found me out."

He smirked, "Have I now?"

She nodded and puffed out a breath, setting the bottle on the table. She scooted it to the side. "Yeah. Really." She shrugged a shoulder. "I've been a little…unsure about you."

He was listening now, intently and seriously.

She continued, shifting her weight on her feet. "Most people that come into Talba either have something to hide or are looking for something to gain," she gestured to the patrons, "so naturally, a business person has to keep things close to the chest." She crossed her arms, "and after you saved me the other day and then met my family and everything happened, I was just….apprehensive. And when I get apprehensive I get a bit edgy. I told you that already." She rubbed her forearm and gave him a side-look that was apologetic. "I'm sorry if I've put you off. I didn't mean to deceive you or anything."

He nodded his understanding, "I see." He took another drink and then looked at her again. "I do not blame you for your reservations," he gestured to her, "I, as I stated earlier, am a bit of an enigma as well." He winked at her, "But I won't be so easy to manipulate into getting answers."

She gave him a mock look of agitated surprise, "Oh, really? I put my heart on my sleeve and you'll give me nothing?" She shook her head, "Well, I can see how _this_ is going to go."

He raised his brows. "You presume this is going somewhere?"

Her heart flared, but she contained it with a sharp slap of her hand on the counter. "You had dinner at my house, sir." She shook her head and pointed sharply at him. "If you think you can write us out of your life after eating our goods, you're dead wrong." She moved towards the kitchen when Miva nodded to her, and she acknowledged the woman with a raised hand, "You fail to understand, Mr. Kenobi, that I _own_ this town." She gestured with her hand, "I know everything about everybody. And I'll figure you out too, I promise. Give me time."

He chuckled and raised his shoulders as if in mock surrender and indifference. "You can give it your best go, Miss Hail," he slapped the counter to emphasize his point, "I look forward to the challenge."

He took another drink, and she didn't fail to notice the fleck of concern pass his features.

Though, Maridian was fairly sure she had just initiated a friendship with Ben Kenobi. And he'd stepped into it.

And, as she moved into the kitchen, she put her hands out in front of her, in unbelief as to what she'd just done. She sighed, let her hip fall against the counter, and ran her fingers mid-way through her curls.

She wasn't exactly sure what she had just done, to be honest.

* * *

Ben left shortly after their exchange, leaving Maridian feeling a bit more at ease but also a bit more apprehensive. She had time alone with her thoughts, which she was beginning to think wasn't such a good idea anymore.

While she felt relieved about having set things straight with Ben – she hadn't really been sure there'd been anything wrong in the first place, honestly – she couldn't have helped but feel a bit exposed. She'd literally just told him she'd pulled the wool over his eyes and hadn't been honest about herself – and in return, he'd basically told her that he was a fortress that she wasn't going to breech. Which in itself presented problems. She'd contemplated the exchange over and over in her brain as she served drinks half-heartedly, not paying her patrons much mind.

In turn, it was nearly one before Maridian was able to leave the bar. The usual combers had all but filed out, the late-nighters who either stayed because of habit or helped Thor finish off the remainders of his kitchen scraps hung around like flies and clinging sands, and Thor had ushered her off. She'd thanked him and collected her things from the back, slipping into her cloak and pulling the hood over her head, ignoring the wandering eyes.

She'd parked her father's speeder out back, and went around the corner in a quick turn. Maridian came to it and throttled it to life, clicking on the light. She was about to mount when the idea struck her that at 1AM it wouldn't be smart to travel – her father would be beyond himself if he found out she'd ventured into the dunes at night and hadn't stayed in Talba. She sighed and clicked off the speeder, reasoning she'd have to stay with Manashe or Talor for the evening.

Moving across the village, she came to Manashe's small house, which was jammed between a speeder mechanic and another house. She knocked on the door respectfully, and waitied a few moments. When no one answered, she shrugged her shoulders, exhaustion all but fueling her at this point. She looked around Manashe's porch, and then over her shoulder to Talor's livery, which was across town. The eopies and other animals were moving around in the night and would provide her not only with warmth, but safety.

She ventured across the street, holding the nape of her cloak closed, her booted feet shifting in the sands. Talor wouldn't mind her sleeping in the barn – she'd done it before at her own farm, when the animal's fell ill. It wasn't a new experience for her, and it presented its benefits as well as its downfalls. She'd be up and out before the suns rose, and no one would've known she was there.

Slipping into the tack room, she gathered a blanket and then extinguished the lights, moving towards the line of stalls. She bunked with the younglings, fluffing herself a bed from the straw they slept in. Their doe eyes and dull expressions had been curious at her presence, and when she'd hunkered down on the straw and covered herself with her blanket, they came over and nuzzled her – sniffing, as if unsure of who she was. She'd giggled and nuzzled their soft noses, stroking their necks carefully before shooing them away.

They, however determined, hunkered down around her and snuggled against her body in kind gesture, as if suddenly compelled to provide her warmth. She didn't deny them, and fell asleep soon after their deep breathing reassured her she was bedded in for a night's sleep.

* * *

 **AN: Hello, all! Just wanted to drop a note again and say thanks for the great reviews so far - I'm tickled that ya'll are finding the story enjoyable. It's an author's pride and joy yo get feedback, to be honest. You all are so fantastic. I'm a very fortunate authoress to have you all backing me up and pulling for me! I can't wait to hear more!**

 **And what's more, I wanted to let you know now - Spring Break is almost done for me, so that means updates will be few and far between, I'm afraid. Until graduation (May!), I will be pretty swamped with college - I'm sure you all remember what college and/or school was like; I'm pretty obsessed with grades the way it is, so success is crucial. I don't to things half-way, so it'll be an intense few weeks. Hopefully I'll get some time in-between the mounds of homework I have to update sporadically. Just wanted to let you all know ahead of time, you you can prepare! Gives you all more time to shoot me some ideas - I love to hear them! What do you want to see happen with Obi-Wan and Maridian?**


	12. Chapter Eleven

Obi-Wan, feeling hazy and thick-headed from perhaps one too many Keela's the night before, stumbled out of bed and managed the stairs early the next morning. He was met by Talor's housekeeper, Manashe, who was far too chipper for such an early hour, and greeted him with both a smile and a steaming cup of tea.

He accepted the drink from the woman, and downed it in almost a gulp. It only occurred to him that it was bitter once it was halfway in the back of his throat, and he thrust the cup back at her, sputtering. He put the back of his hand to his mouth and wrinkled his brow, "My apologies," he stuttered, "but that is perhaps the most awful tea I have ever had."

She cocked a brow at him, then put a withered hand on her hip. "That's because it's charra tea," she interjected swiftly, spinning on her heel. "To help with the headache." She took a few more strides and waved her hand in the air without turning around and mounted the stairs for the upstairs apartment, "Don't even bother to ask how I know – because I know."

Baffled, he watched the woman go and shook his head, attempting to wake his slumbering and foggy mind. He reasoned fresh air would do him good, and made his way out the back door, noting that Talor wasn't around. He had probably already headed into Bestine for his business arrangement, which Obi-Wan didn't find himself particularly minding.

At Talor's pump he managed to refresh himself with a few handfuls of water to the face, which soothed the pounding behind his eyes only momentarily. Then, drinking whatever was left in his hands, he ran his wet fingers through his hair trudged towards the livery, already noting the heavy heat beginning to form droplets between his shoulder blades.

The sooner he had seen to the youngling animals, the sooner he could check the perimeter and head to the west, to survey the land he intended to buy in Mos Eisley. So, without thought, he shoved open the livery doors and stepped down into the stall, and stopped short when his eyes found the figure lying in the straw.

Maridian Hail, still asleep, was nuzzled against the stall wall, a blanket draped over her shoulders, body curled into a content ball, breathing deeply. He watched her a few moments, contemplating her presence, blinking as he watched the animals nuzzled down in the straw around her, at peace. He felt a calmness in the force he hadn't recognized around her before, and he found it immensely pleasing. Almost serene. It caused a pause in the force almost, and Obi-Wan felt it resound in his gut. He had to push aside the desire to brush aside the curl that had fallen in her face and now tickled her nose.

Then, one of the animals noticed his presence, and perked up. It watched him curiously for a moment before letting out a scratchy, high-pitched whine that shrieked across the air something horrendous. Startled, Obi-Wan took a reeling step back and collided with the ajar door, Maridian scrambling awake in a jarred mess of half-awake, half-asleep human being. She, startled, looked around and her eyes widened at the sight of him. Her surprise only lasted a moment as he recomposed himself, feeling a blush rush up his neck. Hopefully she hadn't thought he was spying, because he certainly hadn't meant to stumble upon her – however frequent the event seemed to come about.

"Ben?" She croaked, throat obviously not entirely unconstricted from sleep. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and yawned, then stretched her arms over her head. She pushed herself out of the straw and began to brush herself off, Obi-Wan giving her a crooked grin. Her hair was utterly a mess, straw pieces sticking out of it in every direction.

"Good morning," he managed, himself not entirely awake yet – or, to the capacity he thought would appropriate. _Blasted Keela. A bad idea, Obi-Wan._ "I see you didn't make it home last night."

She shook her head and began to fold the blanket, "Nah," she folded it over her arm, "it was late and my father wouldn't approve of me driving so late." She gave him a half-smile, "Tatooine, as we've already discussed, isn't the most pleasant place in the nighttime hours."

Obi-Wan immediately sensed the shift in the force with her glinting smile. Since their talk last night, he had noticed a layer of her ambiguity within the force peeled away like the outer skin of a serpent. Here now was a Maridian Hail he was not familiar with – a bright, spunky young woman with a hint of brash moxie that he hadn't remembered since his former padawan. _Anakin._ "As I remember," he confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest, "And you decided sleeping with the animals was the most appropriate option?"

She chuckled and moved by him, out of the stall, where he followed and closed the door behind him, the younglings awake now and beginning to prance about their stall in waiting for their breakfast feeding. Obi-Wan ignored the chore and followed her towards the tack room. He could feel the lightness around her now, as if an unforeseen weight had lifted off her shoulders. She had opened up to him with her confession the night before – gone were the days of the shy, uncertain girl he'd met before. She was again the woman he'd rescued behind the livery – alive and…ambitious. Almost abrasive, but not rudely so. She answered his rhetorical question, "It wouldn't be the first time I've slept with the animals, Ben."

Go figure. "If you had come to the house I would've gladly given you my place for the night," he hoped the statement hadn't sounded too presumptuous, and by the glint that flashed her eye, he assumed it was. He felt heat rush up his neck again, and quickly added, "I could have bedded down for the night out here."

She shook her head and shrugged, "Me, you, it makes no difference," she waved off the conversation and untied the tie from her hair, letting her mass of brown curls spill over her shoulders in every direction. Obi-Wan watched her in silence as she tied it back into a bun on top of her head, then put her hands on her hips. "I take it Talor is already gone for his business in Bestine?"

He nodded and scratched his beard, "You heard him, then."

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, "He's not exactly the most graceful human being on Tatooine," he smiled at this, "and it's kind of hard to miss his contraption of a speeder when you sleep outside." She rubbed the back of her neck and turned to face him, "But, as fun as this has been," she moved towards the door, "I'd better get back home. I gotta be back here tonight, and the farm needs me."

His brow collapsed into a disapproving wrinkle. "You're not going to stay in town?" Obi-Wan didn't appreciate the idea of her driving all the way back to her homestead and then back into town. It was inefficient when she could just stay in Talba, but the look on her face told him she'd already made her decision.

She pulled at the hem of her shirt, "And go to work wearing this again?" She rolled her eyes, "Obviously you don't know too much about cantina life," she moved out of the tack room and he followed her, closing the door behind him. She headed to the water pump and activated it and waited for the water to run. She shielded her eyes and looked into the sky, which was already started to get bright in the days suns.

"You should get moving," she interjected, looking to him, "you can probably get most of the perimeter's checked by high noons. Better to beat the heat than lose to it." The water began to run and she wet her face and drank deeply from her hands, him watching her carefully.

He blinked, "I suppose," he crossed his arms again, "I suppose it would be too presumptuous for me to ask you to take your own advice?" She stood and looked him over, running her wet hands across her forehead and down her cheeks. She watched him for a few moments until she cracked a half smile.

"Presumptuous, no." She moved away from the pump and took a few steps back, "Bossy, well," she pinched her fingers close together and squinted between them, "maybe just a smidge." Her eyes lit up in wake of her smile, and he couldn't suppress one of his own. He couldn't help but admit his surprise at her sudden change of attitude – perhaps their talk had done some good, after all. Perhaps he really had no idea who Maridian Hail was at all, like Talor had suggested.

She saluted him casually, "I'll see you later, Ben. Happy scouting." She smiled at him widely again before spinning on her heel, and jogging towards the direction of the cantina. She rounded the corner of Talor's building, and was gone just as swiftly as she'd come into the morning – casually, and with an aura of confidence and bravado he thought suited her.

Obi-Wan reasoned that perhaps he wasn't the only one who was a bit of an enigma. He considered her statement from the cantina – _"Most people that come into Talba either have something to hide, or are looking for something to gain"._ With that statement in mind, he reasoned she had to be a pretty concealed individual, and, as she'd said; play her cards close to the chest. She, after all, was a beautiful young woman with a promising future and a father with hearty prospects. Certainly much to turned on his booted heel and headed back towards the livery to see to the animals before he went out and surveyed the perimeter. _Certainly a lot to gain indeed_ , he found himself observing. Quickly he shooed the idea from his mind.

Maridian Hail had things to gain that was for sure – and he was sure a knowledge of the force was one of those things. Much to gain indeed.

Perhaps almost as much as he had to hide.

* * *

It was evening before Maridian had found herself ready to head back to Talba for another night at Thor's. She had seen to a few things around the farm, but had been pleasantly surprised to find the bulk of the work had been done by her sisters, shockingly. All she'd really had to do was see to a few repairs on one of the pumps and make out a rotation chart for the coming breeding seasons, as well as make a quick holocall to Sonika about her speeder parts – as well as contemplate going to see Jabba about the lackey's he'd sent to collect payment two months early.

Before she had known it, she was dressed and ready again at the door, this time flying through an exiting routine almost as quickly as she could breathe. Dressed in a casual pair of butter colored breeches and a long-sleeved tan tunic, with her usual boots, she'd put her hair up in an elaborate bun and pins, tendrils again falling around her face, with the usual light dusting of makeup.

"So tomorrow you'll be going into Mos Eisley for speeder parts?" Her father asked, as she downed a small glass of juice. Henna was in the kitchen seeing to fruit and vegetables for dinner, Remy nowhere to bee seen in the action. She nodded and waved off the idea of his concern, clanking the glass on the table. "Ben is going to still borrow the speeder, then?"

She nodded and slipped into her cloak, "Yes, Papa." She pulled the hood over her head and moved towards the door, grabbing her pack from the peg. "He still wants to use the speeder."

Henna came rushing into the conversation, all smiles. "He's coming back?"

Maridian rolled her eyes, "Yes, he'll be coming back sometime later this week once I get the speeder put back together. Don't get too excited, now." A wry smile pulled on her lips, "we might start to think you've developed a bit of crush on our friend."

Her father's brows shot up. "Friend?" A smile corrupted his lips and betrayed the mock question in his eyes, "Just a few weeks ago you couldn't have been more eager to get him out the door," he crossed his arms in his chair, "and now suddenly he's your friend?"

Maridian met his smile with a smirk, "You know what I mean. He saved my life, we've chatted a few times in town. He's…an acquaintance." Her eyes fell away from his as the word rolled off her tongue casually. A bit too casually. The butterflies in her stomach denied the statement, however. "Nothing more."

"Mhm. That's good and fine." Her father cocked a brow suspiciously. "He seems nice enough, I suppose. Really refined for a desert man." He winked at her, "He'd make a fine husband."

Maridian could feel Henna prickle with excitement at the idea, except she had seen her father's glint of mischievousness in his eye – she had meant for her. _As if I have a choice, Papa. I have to marry Talor. For all our sakes._ "Don't get any fanciful ideas," she scoffed, "he's a wanderer, Papa. We don't know anything about him, or where he comes from." She turned towards the door and pressed the control panel, "You'd be better off trying to pin down the wind."

And with that, she slipped out the door, and it slid back into its home behind her as she crossed the sands back towards the barn.

* * *

 **AN: Hello, there! It's me - I haven't drowned in the slowly accumulating masses of homework my senior year has presented me, yet! I'm still alive and well, and cultivating ideas for multiple different stories and genres and trying, of course, to navigate life. On my side, time is not.  
**

 **Anyway - just wanted to get a quick update out here. Just a filler, but I wanted to establish Maridian now that she'd kind of come out to Obi-Wan and is beginning to be her spunky self. I was starting to get the feeling that she was a bit of a shy, cowardice young lady, when that's not how I picture her at all. Her reservations are now thrown out the proverbial window that she's realized Obi-Wan isn't going to hurt her and hasn't found out about her ability. Now we'll really get to see what she's made of. Begun, the war has.**

 **Thanks for tuning in - appreciated, reviews are!**


	13. Chapter Twelve

Whereas the night before had gone decently for work, tonight was the hell of what Maridian usually remembered of Thor's establishment. Every ounce of her hope for a decent night had been shattered as soon as she'd stepped foot in the door for her second shift and had seen the riffraff.

The other two waitresses had failed to keep the commotion of the bar satisfied, as he bar was overflowing with waiting and howling customers – all with lecherously lustful stares in their eyes and drunken slurs to their tongues. Xee frantically navigated drinks while Miva bussed drinks and dodged the groping hands of awaiting customers.

Maridian launched herself into work as if she had been doing it her entire life, shoving aside the struggling patrons at the bar only to quickly enter the cut in the counter and join Xee. Sweating frantically and hands shaking, she spilled a poured Space Ale and cursed under her breathe, a groan erupting from the bar patrons around them. Maridian dropped her forehead into a furrow and glared at the patrons and slapped the counter, forcefully.

"Alright!" She exclaimed above the din of raucous music and noise. The bar sobered up almost immediately, the faces of the men surprised by her sudden outburst. "That's it – you'll all wait your turn quietly or the bar's closed. Got it?"

Not at all pleased by the newcomer, she got a series of scowls and muffled curses as many of the men returned to their dining seats and others took their places at the bar quietly, glaring at her. She watched them carefully as Xee frantically started cleaning the mess, her lekku twitching nervously. It wasn't like Xee to be so shaken up, but then again the woman wasn't used to the pace of the bar, either.

Maridian grabbed her hands and turned Xee to face her, smiling coyishly to her. "C'mon," she shrugged, "I'll do this. You go back and take a drink and get back on the floor." Xee's face flushed with a blush of embarrassment and relief, and she nodded. Maridian noticed the tears mounting in the Togruta's eyes, and she winked at her.

"I won't tell if you won't," she added with a smile. Xee nodded and squeezed her hands tightly, then bypassed her with a silent dip of her head and squeaky "thanks". The woman disappeared into the kitchen, which was bustling, only to have Thor peek out after she went back to the floor. He looked genuinely relieved as Maridian cleaned her hands on the damp and stanking ba rrag.

"Thank the stars you're here," he sounded relieved and dragged the back of his wrist over his forehead, "Some type of race just got done south of the Wastes, and we've been swamped. You okay up here by yourself, Maridian?" He looked genuinely sorry, "I know it's only your second night back."

She looked to her patrons and gestured to them and rolled her eyes casually, "I think I got this, Thor," she waved him off, "I'll holler if I need you, mkay?" With a satisfied nod, he disappeared back into the kitchen and she took a few glasses between her fingers and dropped them into the already-packed sink of the bar.

Then, grabbing the rag, she tossed it over her shoulder. Simultaneously plucking a drink accessory from beneath the bar, she twirled it through her fingers and reached up to brush aside a fallen curl. She stared at the Duros in front of her and gave him a ready, confident smile and quirked a brow at him, flicking the accessory into the heap already accumulated on the floor.

"What'll you have, hon?"

* * *

Obi-Wan, after a long afternoon of checking fences and avoiding the stares of whatever neighbors he happened to run across, came back into Talba with seemingly the rest of the entire population. The city was buzzing with newfound and unusual activity and speeders, and upon stabling the speeder, overheard talk of race having transpired a few klicks south of the Jundland Wastes.

Dusting himself off and splashing his face at Talor's back pump, he noticed the crowd filtering in and out of the cantina. The thought of Maridian briefly trifled through his mind, and he considered going over for a drink and saying hello. The thought soured in his gut almost immediately as he practically forced the notion out of possibility – he didn't _want_ to see Maridian. The woman confused him more than she enlightened him, it seemed. Obi-Wan briefly played with the memory of that morning in the back of his mind and a smile floated onto his face. The sight of her with straw sticking up out of her hair had genuinely entertained him, for sure. As had her ease in the force and peace.

He tromped up the steps to the porch of Talor's building and stopped, turned, and leaned against the supporting beam. Crossing his feet at the ankles, he wrapped his arms around the front of his chest and let his eyes wander to the cantina, where a staggering group exited only to welcome a fresh pile of customers into the screaming facility. He blinked the sand that had accumulated on his lashes and reached up to mop the sweat on his brow, only to be met with grainy sands instead – the winds had been rough on his excursion, and Obi-Wan had greatly missed the luxury of enclosed speeder's in such a situation.

As he'd promised himself, he went to check the farm that Bartholomew Hail had insisted on weeks previous. Much to his surprise the place was still _there_ , not entirely picked over by invading and going Jawa wanderers and Sand People. What was left of the small farm was decent indeed – not entirely out of the realm of possibility. It needed attention and a few weeks of hard labor, but it was salvageable and livable. Well out of the city limits and in the middle of nowhere.

 _Perfect for a man trying to keep from prying eyes,_ he told himself. Well out of sight of the city, and of any other type of habitation. The only people near him were the Larses and Hail's – people he could live with, happily.

Obi-Wan brushed himself off and entered Talor's store, looking around for any sign of the man. Upon no such luck he found Manashe on the back porch, carrying an armload of supplies from the next door neighbor, where she had no doubt conducted business. He watched her for a few moments until she caught sight of him and grinned toothily at him.

"Mr. Kenobi," she greeted. He nodded at her and smiled.

"Manashe," he followed her inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the change in light. She moved towards the stairs and climbed the first one, then stopped and turned, eyeing him carefully. Her gaze swept over him loomingly and she gave him a coy smile. Confused and slightly flustered, he felt a slight blush flash on his nose.

She laughed at him, her elderly eyes twinkling with a fleck of appreciative notice. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say now, but she beat him to words and clucked her tongue. "A shame for you to be unmarried at such an age, Mr. Kenobi," her blunt statement knocked him in the gut, and he was sure his face showed every ounce of his surprise. At her chuckle he blushed again, "You are unmarried, are you not?"

Unsure of what to answer, he nodded and gave her a cautious, uncertain side-glance. "Yes," he said carefully, squinting his eyes at her and crossing his arms. He had always been uncertain of this woman in his short time of having known her, but now he was slightly nervous. Stretching his abilities within the force, he sensed no force-sensitivity in her, only age and wisdom.

He posed the question, "Why would you ask?"

She shrugged a shoulder flippantly and cackled lightly. "Oh, no reason," she giggled throatedly, and began climbing the stairs again. Obi-Wan stepped onto the last one after her, one hand on the railing, staring at her with a gaping look. No one asked such a question without expecting an answer, least of all this meddling hen.

As if sensing his doubt, she added, "You strike me as a conflicted man, Mr. Kenobi," she said at the top of the stairs, "most of all lonely. Don't take me for a fool, sir – I see how you've stared after Miss Hail," she cocked an aged hip at him and wagged a finger, balancing her goods in one arm now, "not that you can be blamed, she is a beautifully charming young lady. But, you'd be wise to know sir, that –"

"-Ben?"

The familiarity of the voice seized Obi-Wan by the chest, and he tore his attention from the old woman to the front of the store, stepping off the bottom step to intercept the voice. He stopped mid-stride when he caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway. He looked up the stairway to find Manashe had vanished into one of the rooms, and inwardly sighing, he moved towards the door quickly to intercept Henna Hail.

Dressed modestly in a tan skirt and faded cream shirt, the girl beamed at him as if she'd never before seen the light of day. She stepped fully through the door and reached out for him with one hand, the other raising to move the hood of her cloak from her head. Much tawdier than Maridian's, it ran tea length and had a patched sewn into the right arm.

Furrowing his brow at her but also trying to appear pleasantly surprised, his first thought was if Maridian knew of her arrival into town. If not, she would not be pleased her sister had come into Talba unescorted. However, Henna seemed all of the ignorance a young girl could be and grinned at him, and he extended a hand to meet hers, however cautiously.

"Henna," he said, trying to hide the shocked undertone with a shaky greeting of surprise, "You're…here?" It came out more of a question than a phrase, and Obi-Wan had to brush it off with a quick shake of his head. "I mean, does your sister know you're here?"

She visibly deflated and looked away from him, drawing her hand back slightly. He sensed in the force her sudden disappointment and desperate need for acceptance. He assumed it came from the lack of respectable prospects in the city, her desperate need – and also an envy of her sister, he supposed. Obi-Wan instantly felt a pang of guilt having dismissed her so, and gave her a small smile and slipped his hand into the pocket of his breeches. He opened his mouth to speak and she stepped by him, looking around.

"No," she interjected swiftly, "Maridian doesn't know I'm here," she folded her hands in front of her and rubbed her arm self consciously. Obi-Wan could sense her awkward anxiety and sense of insecurity as he followed her into the depths of the store, "I actually came into to town to tell her that Sonika called, since she's not answering her comm."

His interested piqued almost immediately, and he reached up to rub his beard contemplatively. He sauntered behind her a good distance, and she spun around suddenly, eyes filled with hope again, the situation forgotten. Surprised yet again, he froze and watched her carefully. She came up to him and tipped her head to look up into his eyes, and her eyelids dropped half-mast almost instantly. A small smile fell into place on her lips.

Instinctively, Obi-Wan took a half step back.

"You should inform your sister that you are in town," he said quickly, feeling his chest began to burn with awkward tension. Curse his male hormones and the way women manipulated them. What was it with these Hail women that played on his emotions so? He didn't remember all women making him so…uncomfortable? Then again, he didn't remember being so vulnerable to emotions most of his life, either.

Blocking off his emotions with help from the force, he instantly felt the heat in his blood run cold and his heart stilled into a slow, normal pulse as he remembered Ahsoka, Anakin's former padawan, who wouldn't be much older than Henna. A wash of sweet, innocent youthfulness overcame him – this girl belonged in school, learning and gaining knowledge; not in the kitchen as a wife or in the bedroom as a… _wife._ Not one so young yet in the eyes.

He gave her a shifty look and then crossed his arms in front of his chest, fatherly. Obi-Wan took control of the conversation again. "She will not like you sneaking around, Henna."

Surprised, she took a sharp step back. "Who died and made you my father?" She snapped at him quickly, frowning and crossing her arms in front of her. "Just because you're Maridian's friend doesn't mean you get to tell me how to run my life," she interjected, "I'm not a child."

His brows shot up, speculatively. "I know you are not a child, Henna," he nodded to her and reached up to run his hands through his hair, a sign of exasperation that he used to do quite frequently in Anakin's company. "I was merely suggesting that you should let your sister know where you are, Henna. It is the polite thing to do."She scoured him with her eyes before pulling her stare away, and he could see the defeat in her eyes again. "She worries about you, and Talba is not the place to be off gallivanting alone."

She sighed, nodded, and reached up to play with a curl from behind her ear. She had the same ringlets that Maridian did, except they were a sheering blonde that reminded him of the sun. She looked nothing like Maridian – where Maridian was a plain beauty, her sister was the elegant. A fleeting image of Padmé crossed his memories and a pang of sorrow hit his gut. This young thing would've rivaled even her elegance in the Senate, he assumed.

She let out another pertinent sigh, "I know," she confirmed quietly, then gave him a brief glance, "She's working." He nodded, waiting for her to continue. A flash of red crept up her neck and she turned to face him full-on, her emerald eyes striking. They were full of youthful life, much like Maridian's were.

 _Why do you keep thinking about her you fool?_

"You've seen Maridian today, haven't you?"

Her statement caught him abruptly off guard, and he dropped his hand from his hair and stared at her a brief few seconds. He felt the heat rush up his neck and he looked away quickly, not before catching the smile on her face – however timid and sheepish it was. He felt his core tighten with hot, searing heat again as the force punched a distinctive trail through his blood. At the very mention of her name he could feel her in the force. It was getting close to ridiculous.

"You have seen her today," Henna squeaked softly, then crossed the gap between them swiftly and wrapped her hands around his bicep of her own accord, pulling him towards the door. "Good then. You can walk me over to the cantina," she crinkled her nose in satisfaction.

"Henna, I don't think –"

She shook her head, curls bobbing and slapping her lightly in the face. She brushed them aside as they came out to the porch, quickly taking the steps without thought. His blood began to race in his ears and he felt heat cascade through him like hot, steaming water as the force began to move around him. He felt his throat constrict as she dragged him forward, "Oh, come now, Ben," she squeaked happily, "after all – you're the one who said gallivanting around Talba wasn't safe. The cantina's no place for a young woman like myself," her distinct use of the pronoun was direct, and she winked at him childishly when he assumed it was supposed to be suggestively. "Walk me there and to my eopie and then no one's the worse. Hm?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, somewhat regretting his involvement in the first place. He simply should've sent this girl on alone and he wouldn't have to face the riffraff of the cantina, or Maridian again. He felt exhaustion overwhelm him again to the point of collapse, and could feel the wear on his face, but plodded through the sands after her nonetheless.

* * *

Maridian froze mid-pour when she saw the figure take up the doorway to the cantina.

Half aware she was holding a very expensive bottle of Correlian brandy, she was fairly certain her heart had stopped beating inside her chest as she watched the girl navigate the bar swiftly, eyeing the crowds – looking for her. Her blood began to run cold at the thought of her sister – _her_ sister – in a place like this alone, unescorted.

Her concerns were not unwarranted, as almost immediately a group of young moisture farmers caught sight of her young sister and moved to intercept in their sweaty and filthy clothing. The one looked around her own age, much less suitable for Henna, and slid to a stop in front of her before Maridian had time to swallow a breath and call out. Her heart stopped like a seized engine and she abruptly set the bottle down with a sharp _clack_ on the counter, ignoring the awaiting Zeltron waitress.

She slipped out of the bar and began shoving bodies, her pulse now picking up and panic beginning to lace her veins as hundreds of images flashed through her mind. Her breathing became irregular as her body tensed – blast the _stupid_ Duros who had to stop right in front of her – and she shouldered past patrons, grasping at air as the pounding music from the live band overtook the audible air. She shoved aside someone roughly and was almost to Henna, who was talking ignorantly, bobbing her head, entirely captivated by the stranger when suddenly a strong, broad figure came up beside her sister and graciously took her by the shoulder and steered her away.

Maridian froze, her body stopping mid-stride, along with all its functions and organs. She forgot to breathe for a second as she watched carefully Ben, who graciously dipped his head to the strange young man, led her sister towards the bar by the elbow tenderly but with superior control. Her heart began to pound harder and harder as sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, and she hadn't noticed that her trembling hands were wringing themselves silly. She bit her lower lip and put a hand to her throbbing chest, relief washing over her like a flood.

 _He is a good man_ , she reminded herself, _a good and fine gentleman. Not like anyone else in this forsaken hell-hole._

She wasn't sure if the fact delighted or terrified her. Her attraction to Ben was purely sexual and emotional, she was certain – he had, after all, saved her life. While it was sexual it was not in the least bit practical: she knew _nothing_ of this man or his background. All she knew was her situation and her past; the dire realization that she would not be around forever to care for her family, even though she was the eldest and only one capable of it. If she wasn't to care for them, Tatooine would swallow them whole as she stood by watching – which left her no choice.

She had to marry Talor. She had no other options – it was the only way to ensure her family's well being and get them out of Jabba's hands.

As much as she liked the idea of Ben Kenobi and would give nothing more to approach her feelings on such a level, it was impossible. The man was simply off-limits and far too mysterious for her. He'd all but reassured her that she wanted nothing to do with whom he was as a person and his past history – which she'd never be able to fully understand. The thought alone ruptured a grief in her spirit that she had never before anticipated – but, altogether was aware was not unwelcome. Her throat constricted suddenly at the thought of never truly being able to know Ben Kenobi on the level that she wanted to.

Despite her best attempts at not doing so, Maridian was fairly certain she was falling in love with Ben Kenobi. Or, at least, on the brink.

She was vaguely aware that she'd locked gazes with Ben and that he was leading Henna towards her – and that he was smiling a bit more confidently than was normal – until they were before her. She turned to face them and frowned almost instantly at her sister, willing herself away from Ben's eyes. If she looked into those pale pools, her fury would be lost.

Propping her hands on her hips like a mother, she narrowed her eyes at her sister, who was now elusively looking away and attempting to shrink into the tattered cloak. Her face flushed red almost instantly as Maridian opened her mouth, "Should I even ask why you're here or should I just guess?"

Straightening almost immediately, she raised a hand and opened her mouth to speak. "Whatever you're thinking, it's probably wron –"

Maridian threw up a hand and shook her head, "Shut up and listen to me for once in your life, Henna!" Exasperated, she grabbed her sisters arm, threw an apologetic and somewhat thankful look at Ben, and pulled her sister towards the wall, well out of the crowds. "Do you have any idea what you were thinking? Coming here, alone? Have I taught you nothing, or are you just stupid?"

Her sister glared, "Maridian –"

"Don't even!" She slapped her sister's hand away, "This is a cantina, Henna. _Not_ a place for girls like yourself to come unescorted!" Half aware that this very girl was going to be singing on stage in less than a week, she shook aside the thought and crossed her arms over her chest, "And what were you thinking, coming into town _alone_? Henna, given a week I couldn't tell you all of things that could've gone wrong!"

Henna, entirely humiliated, glared at her and crossed her arms. "Would you just let me say _something?_ " Her tone was heated and laced with fury, but Maridian was beyond caring.

She huffed, "Only if that 'something' is a 'I'm sorry, Maridian, for being entirely stupid'. Otherwise, I won't hear anything." She waited expectantly, scanning Henna's eyes. She was briefly aware of Ben's presence behind her, but paid him no attention.

Henna grunted low, throwing out an open hand. She laced her index finger around her other index finger and glared at her, counting. "First off, I came to tell you that Sonika called Papa's comm because _you_ didn't answer yours," she hissed and Maridian remained coldly still and cemented in place. Henna began counting off on her fingers, "Second off, I'm not _alone_. Ben brought me in," she gestured and continued counting, Maridian not breaking eye contact, "and third off, you forget that I'm not a kid anymore, Maridian. Most girls my age are already married and having children," she spat now, "just because you're older and haven't gotten a suitor yet doesn't mean you get to take control of everyone else's life. And it doesn't mean everyone stays kids forever!"

She now balled her fists at her side and her glare was almost icy now, piercing like their father's was. Maridian swallowed thickly, but didn't dare break eye contact as her sister continued, "I am well and able to take care of myself, and I don't need _you_ around watching over me." She shoved by Maridian, brushing her shoulder roughly, and moved towards the door, catching eyes with Ben only briefly and mumbling a proper "thanks", before stomping up the steps and out the cantina's entrance.

Only once she was gone did Maridian move a hand to her mouth to rub her frown, floating her eyes closed to suppress the tears. She felt her heart began to slip out of her ribcage and into her stomach as her nerves began to steel with sorrowful tension. She reached her hands up to run through her hair and puffed out a breath, eyes brimming, and she swiftly turned and found Ben leaning against the wall, looking at his boots. There was an awkward silence between them and she nodded, taking in the moment.

"That went badly, didn't it?"

He looked up at her, sorrowful. "I'm afraid it could have gone better," she hung her head and nodded matter-of-factly and bit her lower lip, wrapping her arms around her middle and rubbing the bridge of her nose as he reached up to run a hand through his unkempt hair. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged and gave him a pained smile, "It isn't your fault. Nothing you could have done," she moved by him towards the bar and turned on her heel, waving at him loosely and shrugging again, "thank you, though, for watching over her. I owe you."

He gave her a light smile and a flash of lightful joy passed through his eyes, then swiftly followed by grief and a familiar pain she had all but come to welcome. " Of course you don't, Maridian. It's the proper thing to do."

She snorted, "Yeah. The proper thing," she rolled her eyes, and turned on her heel, back towards her customers, "I think you're about the only human being alive on Tatooine that worries about the proper thing, Ben Kenobi." She moved behind the bar and busied her trembling hands, reaching up to remove a fallen curl and furiously batting her lashes to keep away the tears.

Maridian glanced up to see him looking after her, and upon catching eyes with him, he dipped his head and saluted casually, turning on his booted heel and moving through the bar commandingly. When he moved the air seemed to follow, snapping to attention as if he commanded it himself. She felt the swirling, sickening return of the ability anchor in her gut more severely than it had in days.

She tore her eyes away from his disappearing form, and was oddly aware in the atmosphere when he left.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hello, there! I am back - and, say hello to the world's newest Communications specialist! I have officially finished all the classes to my undergraduate career, and I await graduation this coming weekend with anticipating glory. I was so excited that I decided to update a few stories, and this one was on the list!**

 **Hopefully you all enjoy and haven't forgotten about this little piece. I know I surely haven't, and I'm glad to be back in the saddle again. It's been a long time gone, and I am so thrilled to be back writing again - though, I will say, I'm a bit rustier than I imagined! Hopefully that'll wear off as time goes on.**

 **Anyway, thanks again so much my dears and please drop a review! Greatly appreciated, they are.**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Roughly every two or three minutes Talor had checked over his shoulder during his stay in Bestine, but it did not matter. He could not, for the very life of him, shake the feeling that he was being watched or followed in the overpopulated den of vipers that the planet dared to call a city.

He'd conducted his business swiftly, having been successful in garnering a sale from a desperate bantha herder, and had closed the deal over a strong Space Ale at the nearest cantina. After the exchange of a down-payment had concluded he'd eaten his fill at the very same cantina and bid his newfound business partner adieu, promising a delivery once the bantha's were aged appropriate with a firm shake of the man's hand.

Talor had made it back to Talba in the midnight hour, while the city had been quiet and barely thrumming with life. Most of the homes and shops were dark in the night with their slumbering occupants, which he didn't particularly mind. All he needed was the headlights of his speeder to get him home as he'd dared to travel the planet's sandy deserts alone – and, having run into no trouble, had been thankful for his decision. All he wanted now was his bed and a few solid hours of sleep. His feet were as heavy as his eyelids.

He stabled up his speeder and locked the livery's small equipment stall behind him, punching in the code on the small, worn pad beside the door. Once it flashed the reassuring red light, he plodded heavily through the sands and reached a hand up to rake his fingers through his hair, catching sight of the cantina. He wondered if Maridian was working and thought a moment about going to say hello, but he decided against it. He was tired and she'd likely be exhausted and in no mood to lay eyes on him.

Which, he reckoned, he'd have to get used of. The entire arrangement with her father still nagged at him – it didn't seem right, marrying her for just her land and promising dowry. Though, hadn't he known for years that Maridian was to be his wife?

Yes, he reasoned – he'd known for a long time. He had known Maridian since she was a small child – had known her mother before she'd passed on, and had worked with her father before his accident. He'd been around when the other two daughters were born and during the grievances life had dealt them. While most of Talba's eligible bachelors had their eyes firmly cemented – along with their hopes – on the three Hail daughters, Talor had set in his mind from the first time he'd laid eyes on a grown and fully mature Maridian Hail that she was going to be his wife.

He was an easygoing man; never married and with plentiful, promising wealth stockpiled for whatever woman he chose for himself. All of Talba knew it, and more than once he'd had offers from the fathers of daughters in this village. However, he'd made his decision long ago, and had refused each – which had sent many of the families and daughters to bigger, stronger cities to find marriage and lives for themselves. Most of the inhabitants of the city still vied for his approval and for his partnership – he was the man sustaining this village, save for maybe Issik, who marketed dry goods and conveniences.

He reasoned it was just luck that had brought about the events surrounding Maridian's wealth. While He owed Jabba the Hutt a good deal of money, he was not without options. He'd been paying comfortably for years now, but had lapsed as the last two breeding seasons had left him without much for wares. Now Jabba's pathetic lackeys – the Zabrak and Twi'lek – were on his trail and watching his every move. He owed Jabba money, and apparently that slimy Hutt had started to take notice.

Once he married Hail's daughter and inherited the land and wealth of the bantha farm, he'd be able to pay off what he owed Jabba. An unfortunate development for Maridian, but what did the wife of a privileged man need a farm for? With his debts paid off to Jabba, he'd be able to afford her a team of farm hands if she so desired it without worry. All he needed was the freedom from Jabba to be a happy and home-free man – his debts gone, and his wife would be all that would make him happy.

Talor made his way from the livery shed and cast a look back to the cantina. He felt his insides crumble at the thought of Maridian working _there_ , of all places – where every man in the village and those from surrounding voyages would lay eyes on her and covet what was rightfully his. A trail of fire burned in his gut when he pushed the controls for the backdoor and it slid open with a loud _clang._

It closed behind him with an equal loudness and he felt the stillness of the dark seep into him. He'd been born and raised in the upstairs of this store; born and raised and would die here, he reasoned. He'd have his own children here and pass on the legacy of his wealth and blood. His eyes shifted upstairs, and he listened for any movement from Kenobi. As usual, nothing.

The man was a quiet storm, he understood. While he was a hard worker, there was just something Talor could not entirely trust about Ben Kenobi. He assumed it was stranger jitters – most people didn't wander into Talba for as innocent reasons as Kenobi presented. Most came to unrun the law or abandon it; to leave behind messes they had created out of their lives in hope of redemption. Then there was the Empire and the business of the Jedi that Talor wouldn't even ponder – so much to run away from; so many shadows and mystery to hide in the sands of Tatooine and hope to forget. He reasoned that Ben was like the others with some dark and jaded past, and he remembered the words of his father: _Don't borrow someone else's trouble to make payments on your own._ He didn't rightly care about Kenobi, except in the aspect that he worked hard and well.

 _And_ , come to think of it, he seemed to have eyes for Maridian. The thought terrified Talor as much as it enraged him. Kenobi was a refined human, to be certain, and knew his way around the floor when it came to girls, he could easily see it. He had a sharp wit and mind, and his looks weren't all that shabby either. He worked almost as fast as Talor could dish out orders, and with an efficiency that would rival the crack of a whip. Something was _off_ about him, sure – but, Talor couldn't get past the fact that he man was drawn to Maridian – _his_ Maridian. His fiancée. His soon-to-be-wife.

What perhaps disturbed him more was the idea of Maridian's growing friendship with the stranger. They seemed to get on well – a bit too well, he thought. They talked as if they were old company, like they'd been in each other's lives from birth. Talor didn't at all appreciate this not knowing Kenobi's background – and also knowing that Maridian was to be his wife. While she was as stubborn as a bull-headed bantha, she was not without her faults – self-consciousness plagued her like a disease, and she thrived under male attention. Well, perhaps not thrived, but blossomed. And, since Kenobi wasn't too tough on the eyes and was as charming as a Tatooine sunset was beautiful, Talor had his doubts.

He collapsed into his bed shortly after he'd shed his shoes and sandy clothes, sprawled out on the massive, hard mattress. He soaked his aching muscles and his concerns into the springs, and closed his eyes, imagining the days when Maridian Hail would be here by his side, doing all the things wives were bound to do.

* * *

It was mid-morning before Maridian stumbled out of her bedroom, groggy and with a headache. After a hellish night at the cantina after her argument with Henna, she'd staggered out of the establishment at quarter to two, having decided to chance riding home on her father's speeder and unwilling to chance running into Ben in Talor's livery.

The house was warm already with the heat of the suns having risen fully outside, but was tremendously scented with scent of fresh hay, animal, and breakfast. She padded into the kitchen to see Henna working feverishly over breakfast, the house abandoned otherwise.

Maridian leaned against the entry to the kitchen, crossing her arms over her chest and then her feet at the ankles as she watched her sister cut a loaf of bread. Her hands worked diligently like that of an accomplished house wife, and Maridian noticed they were only slightly stained with dirt. Her golden locks she'd pinned into a low-bun, mostly pushed back under a wrap that tied off below the bun. She looked exhausted and puffy eyed – signs that she'd been crying.

She had regretted their falling out as soon as Ben had left the cantina. Maridian knew better than to handle situations with such hostility, but she had been enraged and terrified at the events. The thought of the events that had brought her and Ben together flashed through her mind like a broken holorecording, and she surmised that she would not even give her sisters the chance for such misery. Seeing Henna in the cantina alone had horrified her to the point of illness – she could not bear the thought of anything so awful happening to her sisters – she would die before anything would.

"I didn't think you were going to get up," Henna broke the silence while not breaking her stare from her duties, "though maybe you'd joined the dead or something." Maridian shrugged and crossed the kitchen to the cooling box, opening it to remove the container of milk and a plate of dried cheese.

"I was home late," she murmured quietly. She set the items on the table and watched her sister for a moment and then busied herself by tying her unbrushed and knotted hair into a bun on top her head. She swallowed thickly and then turned to face Henna's back full-on, jutting her hip slightly against the table and crossing her arms. She reasoned to say something, but held her tongue when Henna set the knife down with a _clack_ and whirled around, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

Her voice cracked into a sob, "I'm sorry," she whimpered, throwing herself at Maridian and wrapping her arms around her neck solidly. Maridian swayed under the force of the collision, but stabled herself and wrapped her arms around her sister, tears brimming in her own eyes. "I shouldn't have gone into town alone," her sister was sniffling now, sobbing in air faster than she could breathe appropriately, "I was a fool. I'm sorry I acted so horribly!" She moaned, "And in front of Ben, too!"

The despair was enough to send Maridian into a chuckling fit, but she closed off her throat and instead rubbed her sister's back, "I'm so, so sorry, Maridian. Please, _please_ forgive me."

Maridian, having already done so the night before, pulled her sister back and touched her cheek affectionately and smiled at her softly. Both their cheeks were stained with tears and she nodded at her sister, then rolled her eyes playfully. "You are forgiven, Henna. I'm sorry I yelled – I shouldn't have. You were just trying to be responsible and grown-up, and I…I didn't. I'm sorry." Henna looked away and nodded, then took a step back and wiped her eyes with her fingertips.

They went back to cooking, saying nothing. Once they had finished the bread and set the table, Henna left the kitchen to fetch Remy and their father. Maridian managed to dry her eyes and set the table with butter and utensils, and within moments the three of them returned, Remy and her father vanishing to clean up in the refresher before breakfast. Maridian caught Henna's arm lightly before she moved back into the kitchen, remembering her message about Sonika in Mos Eisley.

Henna nodded, "Yeah. She says she has the part and can't wait to see you," her brow furrowed, "Are you going there today?"

Maridian bit her lower lip. It was Sunday, and she'd be expected back at the cantina again before the evening rushes. She could never make it to and from Mos Eisley in time. Instead she'd have to stay here and finish Henna' dress and chores before the day was gone out of her hands.

She shook her head, "No. Maybe tomorrow." She waved the thought off, "I have some things to do today anyway. We'll have to prepare the bantha's for breeding and set up stalls," the thought annoyed her more than she'd be willing to admit and her headache flared, but she ignored the aching throb in her temple and situated a place setting for their father. "and the fence still needs mending on the southern side."

Henna's face dropped into a pained sympathy, "I don't know if Remy and I can do the stalls by ourselves," she reached for a fork, "Remy still isn't strong enough, and the stalls can't be prepared without letting the herd out into the fencing…." And if the fencing wasn't fixed, they wouldn't be able to be released. "And, the pump's regulator needs tuned again." She finished off the list with a sigh.

Maridian's eyes fluttered closed in an overwhelming urgency, and she puffed out a breath.

"Stang," she huffed out another heavy breath and then grabbed a fork, pointing it back at herself as she thought, clucking her tongue in contemplation. There was so much to do without help – so much to do regardless if there _was_ help or not. Defeated, she whipped the fork back onto the table and then an idea rushed into her brain.

 _I wonder what Ben is doing today…_

The thought lodged itself in her chest before she had time to dismiss it. While she loathed the very agony that came to her soul while being in his presence, he was indeed a strong worker and a man – a man that was desperately needed around the farm. He was also a good man and one that wouldn't expect anything in return besides dinner. Cheap labor was hard to find around Talba – and what was cheap labor was also sloppy labor, too.

She eyed Henna carefully, "I've got an idea," she rushed the corner of the table and moved quickly to the room they shared and punched the door's control with an excitedly eager vigor. She changed swiftly, into a simple pair of brown breeches and a matching wrap top, and forced a brush through her hair. Tying it back with a wrap and adding a few pins to her bun, she grabbed her boots and marched out to the kitchen to find her father and Remy already dishing food onto their plates.

She felt a warm trail trace down between her shoulders and she paused, dropping her boots to the floor. _Stang. Blast this stupid disease._ She ignored the open sore and sat to yank on her boots, then joined her family at the table. She'd have to see to the sore later, and add some ointment before going into work. Maridian would have to favor the spot and pay closer attention to it. She smiled at her family and reached over the table for the bread and plucked a piece from it, biting into it firmly. Its soft freshness she welcomed and then gestured to Henna.

"I'm going to quickly make a call and I'll be back," she gestured between the three of them, "Be ready to get to work when I get back." She pit into the bread again and fished her comm from her pocket, realizing she didn't have Ben's frequency. Hitting the front door's controls, she walked outside into the staggering heat and brought up Talor.

He answered. "Maridian?" He crossed his arms, the holoimage flickering only slightly. He grinned cavalierly at her. "I was just thinking about you,"

 _How special._ "I'm flattered," she said quickly, "but I'm sorry I can't talk long. I was actually wondering if Ben was around."

The look on his face went from a pleasantness to a confused annoyance. He shifted his massive weight on his feet and shrugged, "Yeah, he's around. You wanna talk to him?"

She nodded and gave him a sweet smile. "Yes, please." He nodded and then pointed at her through the image and grinned, wagging his finger. She felt her stomach drop at the idea of what was going to come out of his mouth – she almost sensed it. She could sense him every here, now. A bad habit, but one she'd found entirely necessary in her years of experience.

"Sure, darlin', but you tell your father I want to pay a visit and discuss…business." She had an idea the oasis her father wanted to purchase wasn't the type of business he was talking about. The rueful smile on his face was enough to reassure her of that. He looked off range of the call and waved, "Ben. It's Maridian – she wants to talk with you."

They switched positions and Ben beamed in brightly, wringing his hands through a rag before tossing it over his shoulder. His unkempt hair fell into his face and he reached up to brush it aside, her noting the oil stain on the front of his tunic and a smudge of grease on his bearded chin. A relaxing warmth radiated off of his expression and sent relief flooding through her nerves. She smiled at him softly, welcoming his presence. "Maridian. Good morning."

She nodded and shifted her feet in the sand, brushing aside a wayward one of her curls. "Good morning, Ben," she chirped brightly, almost a bit too brightly. She composed herself and headed looked behind her to the closed door before turning back to him, "I was wondering if I could borrow you for the day."

He laughed suddenly, his face all surprised shock. "Borrowed me? I wasn't aware my services were up for such transactions," he was all joking, and the smile he flashed at her added to his charm. "but I am, however, honored to be of service. What is it that I can do for you, Maridian?"

"Well," she chuckled, "If Talor can spare a day of your work, I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me catch up on a few projects out here," she gave him an apologetic smile, "I'm falling behind."

His joking expression suddenly turned to a professional seriousness that surprised her. He crossed his arms in front of him and staggered his legs a shoulders width apart, nodding in confirmation. "Of course," he replied, and then glanced over his shoulder briefly. He nodded again to the figure out of range, which she assumed was Talor, and then turned back to her. "I think Talor can spare me for the day. I will depart immediately."

She smiled gratefully at him and nodded once in confirmation. "Great. Dinner'll be in it for you if you prove your worth, Ben." Her joke was taken in a smiling stride from him and was welcomed with a throaty chuckle. He moved aside his hair again and nodded firmly.

He smiled at her, "I shall look forward to the challenge, then."

He bowed graciously and the call disconnected, and she repocketed the device. Within an hour he was guiding Talor's speeder down the dune, and he parked it right outside the house. She came outside to meet him and pulled on the last of her working gloves, and he crossed the yard to meet her with a grin.

"Hey," she greeted him, extending a pair of working gloves to him as well. He nodded and accepted them, then slipped out of his cloak and she followed him back to the speeder, where he draped it over the handlebars. He turned to her and pulled on the gloves, grinning.

"Well then. What did you have in mind for me to do today, Miss?" His tone was all kidding again, and she waved him towards the barn, where Remy and Henna would be expecting them. He followed unabashedly, and Maridian realized her heart was pounding as she felt his stare on the back of her neck.

"A lot, Mr. Kenobi," she returned the sarcastic platitudes with a loose smile over her shoulder and punched in the door's controls swiftly.

 _A lot indeed._


	15. Chapter Fourteen

The Tatooine suns hotter in the afternoon than expected, Maridian beckoned her sisters and Obi-Wan inside far earlier than he had anticipated. She'd left her sisters sometime earlier to prepare stalls themselves with his watchful eye over them, leaving him to mend the pump and make whatever repairs were necessary. Not as mechanically inclined as he would like to be, it was a struggle – but with a slight pressing into of the force, he managed the task effortlessly.

Obi-Wan came around the barn, tools at hand, to see that the two younger sisters were busily straightening up the building. Remy was organizing tack in the back corner, and Henna was hefting a bag of grain on her shoulder as if she'd been doing it from birth. He came in carefully as not to startle them and crossed to the tool bench, which was tucked against the southern wall in the left corner.

Within a breath Remy sidled up next to him, watching him carefully. She said nothing as he replaced the tools and then opened her mouth to speak, but was beat to the task when Henna's voice called back to them from the front doors.

"Remy, let's go," Obi-Wan turned to watch the young lady wave her forward, and with a jerk of her head gestured to the house across the sandy yard, "Maridian's going to be leaving soon and Papa wants us to have supper together." Her eyes caught Ben and smile sheepishly at him as Remy bolted away from the tool bench.

Obi-Wan reached up to mop his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic and gestured for Henna to step through the door first. He hit the control panel once he himself exited the barn and the door banged into place with a jarring closure. Remy already at the house, Henna walked a good distance beside him. The tension surrounding her was heavy with uncertainty, and he pressed into the force to read her: she was nervous, and sorry, as well as embarrassed. Obi-Wan assumed it was because of her behavior at the cantina the night before, but said nothing.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Ben," she said quietly. He looked at her expectantly and felt a pang of sympathy for her. It had to have been difficult being the middle child – wanting acceptance and individuality, awaiting the attention that was given the younger and the respect given to the older. Her need for acceptance shadowed her eyes, given his perceptiveness.

He waited for her to continue her thought. "I…I hope you don't think of me as some…childish waif or something," they stopped outside the front door, her hand hovering in front of the control panel. She looked at him and blushed madly, a trickle of sweat escaping her head-wrap to fall down her temple, "I lost my temper and reacted poorly. I'm sorry you had to see it."

He gave her a sympathetic, understanding, upturn of his lips. "I understand," he said calmly, "anger can get the better of us, despite our best efforts." _Don't I know that from experience,_ "Best to remember that a gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger, Henna. Your sister only cares for you – she did not mean to treat you indifferently or make light of you. She wants you to be safe." He gave her a soft smile now, the tension around the force beginning to break away, "Best to remember that next time, hm?"

She nodded and pressed the control panel, "I will," her eyes caught his and locked with them a moment, this time understanding and lacking in the innocent desire he'd noticed the day before. Suddenly she became the youngster he remembered as Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's former padwan and a confidante of his own.

Briefly he saw the reverent respect and realization pass through her eyes – much like the look he gave to Qui-Gon and Yoda so many years before. It brought a security to Obi-Wan that he hadn't realized he was missing – as well as a relief. He had hoped to show his polite disinterest in her by distance as well as wisdom of having many years under his belt, and he got the idea it was now just hitting home with the young Hail daughter.

A flicker of pleasance rushed through her eyes and anchored his concerns. The force, now alleviated of its warning bells, simmered into a peaceful pool around the girl – no longer was she a threat to the Code born inside of him. Instead, as he stepped into the home after her, the bells were struck again within the force as he, undoubtedly, encountered Maridian's presence.

She was in the kitchen, working furiously at slicing bread, hair done in a low braid that draped over her shoulder. Pieces of her curls had broken free, however, and curled around her face perfectly, and he noticed that her face was lacking paints and make ups that she'd been wearing previous nights. Instead, he noted a light dusting of patched redness along the skin of her cheeks and temple, but his eyes moved away to scan her entirety.

Her in-complexity and plain lucidity was extraordinarily appealing to him. Obi-Wan had only briefly noticed before that she dressed practically, but today he found it inviting and attractive. Her faded red breeches matched with a cream colored tunic with laces in the front was a simple elegance he had not anticipated from her, and he noticed she wore no belt around her waist – instead a belt wrapped around her upper thigh and held a pocket and knife-sheath.

He had to painfully tear his eyes off of her to notice the burning he felt in his gut, as well as the inability to breathe properly. Perhaps it was because his blood was laced with so much heat that it was affecting his ability to properly function as a human being. He felt his stomach begin to do maneuvers as if in a lightsaber duel itself. Obi-Wan became keenly aware of himself as well and an aching realization of the fact that his arms were brutally empty of her body socked him straight in the gut. Activity came alive in places he had forgotten he had as blood pushed rapidly south. The force, his only relief, buzzed with light and power and activity at her presence.

Then, he saw it happen – she turned to the cooling box and reached above it, and in her inability to reach a jar, used the force to beckon it to her. The force exploded with activity and almost knocked him off of his feet, and his eyes widened. He felt the blood rush from his face and anxiety snatched away his breath, as well as the pending sense of duty.

While it was a simple act, it was an act that would get her, her family, him, and Luke killed. If the Empire even caught wind of her presence within the force, Tatooine would know a wrath it had never seen – that Obi-Wan did not even want to formulate in the workings of his mind. He had to get this under control, otherwise it would be the undoing of all of them. It could not wait. _He_ could not wait.

Obi-Wan wasn't about to gamble with the lives of these people and hope that she wouldn't go unnoticed. Because she would get noticed, sooner or later. The thought of the Empire's sentence on these people – his newfound friends, Anakin's son – was enough to cause the force to scream out to him in agony. This was a bet he was unwilling to make.

And one he knew he would lose.

* * *

Dinner went casually, with as much small talk as Maridian knew her father could muster, though she could not help but sense Ben's distress across the table. She had casually glanced at him a few times and tried to read him, but was unable. He was like a brick wall, which unnerved her.

She had hoped he had not seen her act above the cooling box. While it had not entirely been an accident, she hadn't expected the act to come so swiftly – or so effortlessly. It had happened without so much as a second thought on her part, and panic had laced her veins with icy fear and had seized her breath in an iron fist. She'd clutched the jar so quickly to her chest, awaiting anyone's questioning realization. That she could address. But, when none had come, she had to live with the wondering thought if anyone had truly seen, which was killing her like a slow, lacing poison.

Now, as she cleared away dishes, she could not help to realize Ben's presence brought an odd finality to the atmosphere of her home. As if he had been missing her entire life and now came to complete the aching hole left in their family. He brought a sense of completeness that she had not been realizing her family was lacking – her father laughed like he hadn't in years; her sisters watched with sparkling eyes of hope. It was only Ben's second arrival at their home, but already he fit so perfectly that it terrified the wits out of Maridian. He seemed casual and loose here, flip and entirety comfortable.

 _Please don't get any ideas, Ben. I would hate to break your heart._ Truthfully, she'd hate to break her own heart; too, though she already knew it was broken and was simply struggling to stay together. It had broken the moment her mother had died – even farther when her father had had the accident. Maridian wondered if she even knew how to function with a heart that _wasn't_ so broken and downtrodden.

Though, she could not help that she was falling in love with Ben Kenobi. He seemed to, one way or another, momentarily piece her heart back together in ways that Talor never could. She felt so different around him – like she could be open and unafraid and _herself_. While she had hoped he had never seen her abilities, Maridian felt as if she could show him and he would be nothing but understanding.

Because that's the feeling she felt around Ben: safe. Understood. Accepted. All the barricades came crashing down around Ben, all her insecurities – she felt like whole woman around him, not a cheap imitation. He made her feel _alive_. And, not only that, she wanted nothing more to know every piece about him and have the same effect on him.

It was a terrifying development. She had never been in love before, but as she quietly excused herself to retrieve her cloak from her room, she felt the boiling emotions bubble over in her chest: she _was_ in love. Or at least, was getting there. While she had attempted to dismiss her feelings as simply girlish manifestations of infatuation, she knew deep down they were not.

Ben was the man she had been dreaming about her entire life – had read about in stories and had penned in poems. He was the man that Talba could never produce for her. The knight in shining armor she'd been waiting for; the hope in the hopeless desert of her life. The one who was supposed to come and take her away from all of this and burden the responsibility with her; who was supposed to promise her that everything would turn out okay. The man who was supposed to accept her and love her despite her disease and self-consciousness.

In a brief and quiet goodbye to her family she was gone; a quick kiss to her father, and a simple smile to Bens. As she mounted her speeder and throttled it to life, the thought briefly passed her mind that she and Ben were destined. And that she was destined to be in love with a man she could never have. She felt it burning in the swirling activity in her gut: Ben was the one she'd been waiting for, the one she could never be with.

The one who would hold her heart together when it continually threatened to fall apart.

* * *

Atonas watched the activity of the bar only half-heartedly, his gaze cemented on the woman working behind the bar with swift hands and competence. Really, he shouldn't even classify her as a woman – she was business, a _target,_ a job. Nothing really more than that to Jabba the Hutt as an employer, and thus to him as an employee, but very much more to him as a man.

Maridian Hail was beauty in the ugly wasteland called Talba. She radiated among the throng of aliens and voyaging herders that made up the population of the village. A shame, really – she belonged in a place like Mos Eisley, where she could thrive. He imagined she'd attract some wealthy suitors in a city like that – she'd marry well and have life at her doorstep, everything ever denied her at a whim.

But, here she was. He pitied her that she owed so much to Jabba and had failed to uphold her end of the bargain. Because that's what borrowing was to Jabba – business. A bargain. Something to be upheld and not tossed aside or dropped. Tossing or dropping got people on his bad side very quickly – and once on Jabba the Hutt's bad side, very rarely did anyone come out of it.

Those that did were lucky, or dead.

As he watched her, the brief thought crossed his mind that she'd make a lovely whore – and his appetite swelled with desire. She'd probably make more that way than she ever could marrying wealthy. She could sit at Jabba's throne and just _look_ beautiful and she'd be better off than she was here, sweltering to death in the desert. So many possibilities. Atonas was just undecided on how the beauty would end up.

But, then again – it wasn't his place to decide.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

" _Obi-Wan…"_

 _The voice, so oddly comforting, send a spike of compliance through his chest so sharply he considered briefly that a knife had cut through his body. It was a desire so strong that it possessed his entire being as fire blazed a path through his blood like a pioneer having set foot on a new, unexplored territory. His stomach was doing turns; hear hammering like an ion cannon pumping off rounds in a never-ending artillery fight._

 _He stepped forward after the form, who left delicate footprints in the sand as she floated before him almost like an angel; gracious and tenderly commanding. Clothed in a clean, pure white, her hair fell in spiraling brown tumults down her shoulders and back – her voice like a soft and untouched cream that churned away at his resolve deliciously. Every breathe was like a honeydew drop to his taste; domineering and addicting. He could not stand to have enough of her, of any part – she made every ounce of him alive when so many parts had been dead._

 _And then, what once had been blistering deserts of quiet serenity was now a bustling city, her so far ahead of him that his chest hitched his heart into this throat. His lungs swelled with panic as she looked either direction before the alleyway, and her sparkling form stepped into the bleak darkness without him, her very presence echoing through the force like a blaring call of warning. Panic and debilitating pain shot through his soul, seizing every nerve, until he bolted in an agonizingly slow run toward her – every being the galaxy could produce thrown in his way to separate him from her. Flashes from his past paralyzed him; lost in the maze of his regrets and pledges and promises, lost in the broken and unbroken vows. The failures, like phantoms, came to choke the life out of him while his vision rushed forward in the alley while his body stayed cemented in the crowd._

 _And there, he saw the dark figure, standing before his one true chance at happiness, gripping her by the throat mercilessly and flinging her across the air as if she were nothing. Her vocal screams were silenced, though her panic and terror echoed through the force and iced his blood like a slow acting poison. He shrieked for her, suddenly collapsed and pressed onto the street, reaching out for her to grab her with the force – but nothing happened. No move of the force or power. No connection. A dead coldness in his wake, he watched the scene unfold as the man ripped off her white gown and smothered her in a dark cape, her form suddenly enveloped in the inky corpse of blackness._

 _And he heard the force scream, as the light slowly ebbed out of her soul._

* * *

Obi-Wan bolted awake, only half aware of his surroundings. He slowly began to realize he was back at Talor's shop, above the livery offices as he whipped the blanket off his burning body an swung his legs over the side of his bed. His heartbeat was echoing in his chest, and he curled his toes as he felt the pressure mount in parts of him that he had thought were dead.

Body drenched in sweat, he mopped his unkempt hair out of his head, as well as the droplets of water from his beard, and then gripped the sheets on either side of him as he sat in the heated darkness of his room. He reached out in the force and briefly considered he and Anakin's lightsabers, then felt for Maridian's presence at the cantina – painfully oblivious of his prying, as usual. He briefly felt the pang of guilt of invading on her privacy within the force, but only once sensing she was safe did he withdraw.

These dreams were getting out of hand, he reminded himself. Never had he been particularly privy to having force-induced dreams before, especially never about women; but now he could no longer deny the duty setting before him: Maridian Hail had to be dealt with _immediately._ After the incident at the house earlier that evening and her precocious strength bearing in the force, it could not be denied.

Obi-Wan, falling back across the bed and flinging his arms above his head, contemplated the darkness of the room, came to the concise decision that he would bring this to Maridian as soon as possible. His exile didn't matter, and neither did the impending doom of the Empire: she was _something_ in the force – something that would get them all executed. Something that the force would not let him forget nor dismiss.

Obviously this dream meant _something_. He did not know whether the dark figure in his dreams had been a Sith or an Imperial, but he did know it was not a good individual with intentions that would rob the very light she kept in her soul. Regardless of his mixed and uncertain feelings for and about her, he would have to yet again dawn the cloak of a Jedi Master, despite the dangers it presented to himself, Anakin's son, and Maridian. Better she be confronted knowing how to handle her abilities than not, he reasoned.

 _As much as I don't want to deal with this, I must,_ he puffed out a heavy breath and groaned, feeling the stabbing and dull ache rise in his abdomen from such dreaming. He covered his eyes and ran his hands down his face and over his beard, silently wishing for the presence of Qui-Gon Jinn and Master Yoda.

* * *

 _The hot sands shifted beneath the woman's feet, making it difficult to stay upright. She wobbled and staggered through the sandy streets of Anchorhead, cloak drawn over her head as to hide suspicious eyes, sweat trickling down her body like rivulets of water._

 _Her swelled ankles burned with intense heat that would rival the suns of this planet – she had been here two weeks and was practically on the verge of collapse. The heavy beating of her heart mimicked the painful drum of aching, stabbing pain in her feet – her legs burned with each move, each step a torturous development of motion. Half delirious with confusion and anxiety, she wandered around; a simple woman of Coruscant cast into the blazing hell that was Tatooine._

 _Her swift exile from Coruscant had led her here in hopes of hiding peacefully from those who would destroy her, and the child she carried within her. Far too many people wanted her alive for her child; even more wanted her and the baby dead. Not too many people had been pleased to know a woman of such regard had conceived illegitimately, despite her best efforts._

 _She hadn't willed the actions of a bed-maiden, but had instead complied for the safety of not only her people, but the reputation of their honor. The secrets he'd known had been debilitating enough to destroy her and their trust in her – and that she could not live with The shame that would come from that type of exile was far worse than any she could live with now._

 _And so she was cursed to this desert place. Cursed to live here and birth a child here; cursed to die here. She knew nothing of Tatooine life or the life of the desert – either way didn't matter; either culture was foreign. She knew no one and trusted even less than that – she could hardly trust herself to the hands of fate much less any physical being. She scanned the street vendors and crowds of the city, hand coming to rest under her rounded abdomen to cradle the life yet unborn within her._

 _Her stomach rolled with hunger, her throat burning to the point of incineration. The child within her shrieked with movement for nourishment and rest. Sweating and straggering down the street, she made for the closest vendor she could find – a kindly looking young man. Half aware of her station, she came under the canopy of his stand and wrapped a shaky hand around a foreign food that resembled food, but was of all edibility, considering her conditions._

 _The man came around, and she felt her heart leap with newfound appreciation for his features. He had dark hair and darker eyes, his skin tanned by the suns. Head and shoulders taller than herself, he smiled at her cavalierly, taking in her form with his eyes. His gaze stopped at her swelled belly and then he gave her a grin – his eyes danced with life, his features even more handsome upon further investigation. Broad and well toned, she instantly found herself unable to look away from him, but duty-bound to do so._

 _Duty already forsaken, she smiled weakly at him, hands trembling. She pulled the fruit to her bosom and ran her hand over it, relishing in the thought of partaking of it. She pulled her eyes from the fruit to smile softly at him, feeling the child leap within her when he raised an arm to lean it casually against the stand's supporting beam, giving her a sly grin that had probably charmed half the city's women folk already. He picked up a fruit and tossed it in his free hand casually._

" _Hi," he said, voice richly deep and kind, "can I help you with something?" He set the fruit down, pushed himself off the beam, and then stepped around the fruit stand to intercept another type of fruit in his hands. He took it, rolled it through his hands, her watching him carefully. He scanned her again with his eyes._

" _Better yet – you got a name? Something as pretty as you has to have a name."_

 _She felt the blush escape her control and blossom on her cheeks, putting a hand over her swelled belly again. Suddenly she forgot the pain in her ankles and feet, as well as her legs – all she was aware of was the rising heat in her chest and the child rolling madly within her. She smiled, shrugged a shoulder, and mopped the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her cloak._

" _Perhaps so," she said quietly, "but that depends on who wants to know." Suddenly, she felt lightheaded and staggered backwards, head feeling heavy. The fruit dropped out of her hands and hit the sandy ground silently at her feet._

 _He rushed to intercept her, grabbing her delicately under her arm, brow furrowing in concern. He led her around the fruit stand to the back, to a stool sitting in the shade. Protesting all the way, he finally sat her down and she winced, her body beginning to tremble again. Sweat pooled off of her as if she was raining it. Concern white-washed his face as he crouched before her, reached under the stool, and produced a canteen._

" _You are not well, Miss," he said sternly, "and you are with child."_

 _She snorted, pain erupting in her body again. He uncapped the canteen and handed it to her. She took long drinks, water spilling over the edge of her lips to soothe the burning skin of her skin. Choking, she removed the canteen from her mouth and swallowed quickly, coughing roughly, "I assure you, sir, I am well aware of that fact."_

 _He smiled at her softly and then she fell back against the supporting beam of his canopy, sighing and closing her eyes. A wave of nausea hit her and she cringed, feeling pressure mount in her abdomen again as the child cartwheeled and pressed against every organ her body knew. She panted, and briefly was aware that her cloak and fallen open, exposing her satchel and…equipment. At the thought, her eyes popped open and she righted, then looked to her side and then him._

 _However, his eyes were frozen at her side and then he tore them away to look at her. She suddenly realized her mistake, blushed a mad shade of red, and pulled her cape closed around her front. Silently pleading with him to say nothing, she found confidence in his eyes as he stood, extended his hand, and smiled at her – his eyes flecked with a life that soothed her like a fresh breeze off the sandy dunes of the Tatooine desert. They were a brief oasis of comfort and safety in an endless onslaught of desert._

" _The name's Bartholomew," he said deeply, "Bartholomew Hail."_


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_Part Two: The Desert_

* * *

" _You coming to get this part or what? I'm afraid it's going to get up and march out to Talba itself if you don't."_

Maridian gave the holo-device a serious side-look as she finished drying her hands on her breeches that morning in the kitchen. It had been two weeks since her last day of work for the weekend – Sunday – and she was just finishing dishes from a late lunch. Remy and Henna were outside feeding the bantha's, and their father was supervising from the doorway.

Time had slipped away from them all, it had seemed, and had demanded their attention on the farm: Henna had yet to perform at Thor's cantina, despite Maridian's promises - though, however, the event was this coming weekend. Everything had been pushed off in the business of the dark seasons: Talor was busy making business calls; Ben's trip to the abandoned hovel was continually postponed. Maridian was barely able to stay afloat at the cantina and the farm - and fixing a speeder was out of the question.

And, too - she'd hadn't heard from Ben. Not in two weeks.

Sonika Turros cocked a brow at her over the call and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd called Maridian this afternoon to inquire about the speeder fuel pump that she'd still had on reserve from their last call. Maridian had, honestly, put the endeavor off – she'd hoped Ben would forget about her loaning out their extra speeder. No such luck had befallen her, however – her father had insisted she finish the project with the announcement he had intentions to sell the bike to Ben.

She'd dropped her fork at lunch. "You can't be serious," she'd said, "We need the speeder!"

He'd shrugged, "We have eopie's, Maridian. He has nothing." And, after reassuring comments from her two clueless sisters, the decision had been made with little to no extra thought.

Maridian turned to fully address the holo-device and picked it up with a hand, nodding. "I know, I know." She sighed and brushed aside one of her curls with the back of her hand, then rubbed the soreness in the muscles of her neck, kneading away the pain. "I'm sorry. It's been…crazy around here lately. I'm trying to get stalls finished for breeding season, and the fence still isn't fixed."

Sonika wasn't having it. _"I have been your friend since we were old enough to count, Maridian Hail,"_ she wagged a finger at her, _"and despite what you may think, there are some of us who worry about you. Me, on the top of the list. You're working too hard. Look at you!"_ She gestured through the call, _"My holocom might be old, but I'm pretty sure it's not capable of darkening the circles under your eyes. You're exhausted."_

And she was every bit of the suggestion. In her two weeks off she had seen to expanding stalls and clearing out the barn for the breeding season; organizing tack and making room to expand another stall. Her father had placed an order for materials from a friend in Anchorhead, and had plans to retrieve it later in the month. With four fully operational stalls, they'd be able to breed at twice the rate they had last year – and the faster the bantha's bred, the more time they had to beat the dark seasons.

And also in these two weeks, she had finished Henna's dress, which she intended to fit tomorrow afternoon, before a trip into Talba for supplies. Mostly, however, she'd been up half the night going through documentations for the loans from Jabba – she had roughly two months to finish off her payments, and that was if they could sell another herd of banthas. She'd have to go as far as Bestine or Tosche to sell those, as Talor wouldn't be able to take more in until the dark seasons passed, and no one in town could afford such a hefty price this late in the season.

It was all slowly coming unraveled. Exhaustion had tightened her nerves to steel blockades, and she was raw with emotion; on the verge of tears as Sonika stared at her sympathetically. Every ounce of her existence hurt, burned, ached, or throbbed with pain. She'd long since been unable to imagine life without aching muscles, and her head throbbed with a perpetual, chronic thrum of pain behind her eyes. She'd dropped three pounds in less than two days, and then her skin – her skin was raw from lack of care; sores open and bleeding. She'd medicated what she could on her own, but too was running out of the ointment. Life, it seemed, was ebbing away – sapping from her every ounce of resolve and effort.

She swallowed dryly and sighed in compliance, no strength left to argue. Sonika finally retorted, " _You're coming to see me today if I have to drag you by your hair,"_ She was all seriousness.

Maridian opened her mouth to retort back with a snap, but the Twi'lek beat her to it. " _You need the time off, so don't even argue with me about it."_

Maridian, deflated, fell against the counter and nodded, shifting her eyes away to look at a spot on the floor. She remembered dropping the knife there and leaving the mark right after her mother had died. "I know," she sighed, "but I just can't afford –"

" _You can and you will,"_ Sonika interjected, " _your sisters – and your father – can survive the afternoon without you."_ A smile spread on her lovely face, and she cocked a hip, " _and besides. I want to hear about this Ben character, and I want you to meet someone."_

At the very knowledge of Ben her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, and she had to swallow a shaky breath. Her chest constricted as if squeezed into a vice, and she felt the contents of her stomach sour into a toxic brew. Her chest sudden became a void cavity, devoid of life at the very mention of the man's name.

There was no denying it, now. Maridian would be the first to admit her feelings ran deeper than friendship for Ben, despite her better judgment. Since he'd come to the house that evening two days previous to help her, she had been a mess of emotions.

She had, reverently, tried to push the stranger from her mind. To tell herself he was just that, a _stranger_ , and not to be trusted. Every instinct she possessed screamed warning at her like a shrieking Tusken Raider, reminding her of the safety a simple life as a bantha rancher promised. But, life was anything but safe – at least to her. She had Jabba's people _following_ her now, which was never a good sign – and now, more than ever, she regretted almost every breath. Ben Kenobi presented far more uncertainty and danger than she needed, but really if Maridian was honest, she did not care. The only thing that seemed to matter was her feeling and her ability that urged her ever closer to him. It almost seemed to whisper his very name on her heart, like rippling water. It was the only instinct pulling at her _not_ to run away from him.

In all honesty, Maridian could never run from Ben, despite her instincts. Every ounce of her gravitated toward him like a magnet. He fascinated her beyond belief – the little she knew him, anyway. She felt apprehensive and excited about him; lost but at the same time found, hidden yet exposed. He flipped everything, and made everything opposite about her: while she desperately wanted to be the stronger, independent woman-type that would challenge him, she also wanted to fall apart at his very feet and let him piece her back together. She wanted to know every blasted thing about the strange man Ben Kenobi, but at the same time could live the rest of her life hanging on the very mystery of his existence.

There was just something _about_ him. Something that could level her like fallen building. He had such fire in his eyes that could ignite even the thickest darkness, a passion and peace so strong that it was both motivating and unsettling: she had never seen such life in a man's eyes on Tatooine; in such a place of hopelessness and monotony. Never had such hope blossomed on Talba's ranges and amongst its dunes – never had such excitement birthed here, in all her twenty-one years of living. He walked in a power and an aura that she had never dreamed of – with a swagger that belonged to kings instead of peasant wanderers. He was both confident and reserved; bravado but also grace. Ben Kenobi was a churned pot of boiling water waiting to spill over – unwatched and unpredictable. While he frightened every known plan Maridian had made for herself, he also excited the unexplored possibilities of life with such a promising man.

Of course, she told herself, that could never be. She was sentenced to admiration of Ben Kenobi from afar, as she was promised to Talor and his providence that would redeem her family from poverty. While she knew Talor since childhood, she also knew his stability – he was a good man, with a healthy business and an even healthier take on Talba's future. He was the future of their village – their people; the name Talba. Everyone knew it, and countless father's had approached the man to take their daughters' hands in marriage. Every woman in Talba that had been her age – before moving onto bigger cities and bigger prospects – had known it too, and had vied for the man's attention.

But also everyone had known that the man's eyes had been settled on _her._ Of course it had to be here, everyone whispered, because Maridian Hail was the strongest woman within Talba's borders. She had the biggest prospects and the biggest dowry for any woman within fifty miles of Anchorhead, as well as the biggest sum of land. Everyone had always said that she was the loveliest of Talba's women; the purest and hardest working. A perfect woman to bear the name Jukkuun – the perfect woman to bear the generations of wealth and prosperity.

As she gathered her cape and satchel, Maridian considered Talor. He was a good man, with a big heart and even bigger pocketbook. She had known him her entire life, as he was well over ten years her senior, and his father had known her family before she was even born. Their names had been destined since either one of them were ever of marrying age – their destines entwined from birth. Everyone in Talba knew it – Maridian Hail was to wed Talor Jukkuun, and it was simple. Prophecy, almost.

But despite the security that rested in a marriage to Talor, Maridian felt ill at ease. As if she were caged behind bars and pressed into a corner at the very concept. Every atom within her very genetic makeup screamed against the idea of marrying Talor: she didn't want to be forced into an arranged marriage, though she knew it was necessary. She wanted to be free to decide for herself – to do what _she_ wanted. All of her life she had been at someone else's need and service; had dedicated her life to someone else's dreams and aspirations. She'd pushed hers aside since she'd practically been born. It was her fatge, she assumed, to be forced into a marriage she did not want. And while she could learn to love Talor as a husband, she was certain she'd never truly feel what a proper, adoring wife should feel towards a man.

Because Talor did little to nothing in her heart like Ben did – in the short time she had known Kenobi, she had discovered more about herself and her own heart than a lifetime of knowing Talor had done for her. Knowing Ben was like chasing the wind and knowing the sun – life and light and freedom, whereas life with Talor promised nothing but everything she already knew about herself: that what she wanted didn't matter, and that she lived for others. Hiding behind a disease that threatened her confidence and debts that choked the life from her family's very name, all life with Talor promised was the repetition she had known since forever.

But life with Ben…life with Ben promised more: uncertainty, knowledge, strength. When he looked at her the very world they stood on quaked. In his shadow she drew strength and independence that she had never known – confidence to tell him all the things she knew she could never admit to anyone else. She'd confessed to him on Talba's streets that she'd been unsure of him, when others would've simply left her at quiet suspicion. He pulled truth out of her and demanded her attention like an interrogating storm. While she knew nothing about him, she was heightened, and her desperation and liberation soared.

However, she could sense his reservations and his uncertainties. Here rested a man who remained unmarried despite his age, and came to Tatooine to hide from whatever it was he was hiding from. Maridian was of the idea he was a man of knowledge and power outrunning those who would sap it from him – she got that feeling in her gut when she studied him. That heightened awareness of her secret ability did not cease to stir warning and curiosity within her, and she sensed more of him than she let on – something stirred within his very soul and etched deplorable ache in his eyes. While they were eyes of life and passion, they were also eyes of uncertainty and depths of pain. Whatever the man was going through kept his distanced and reserved and cautious – he was not easily revealed in any light, and he'd admitted as much. He was a hidden man in the shadows that radiated light – an enigma, as he had said.

Maridian could sense his attraction to her, on more than a curious friendship type of way. He looked at her like he hadn't other women in Talba at the cantina or her sisters – she had felt his eyes on her body as she'd worked in the kitchen, and felt his stare as she'd worked in the barn with Henna and Remy. He studied her like a man would study the stars: in a reverent awe and curiosity of a man on the verge of breakthrough but entirely uncertain. She could see the longing and loneliness etching away at his features – he was not accustomed to loneliness, and ached for companionship. And, while his eyes lacked the lustfulness she'd become accustomed to in Talba's male population, she could see the uncertain desperation and attraction.

 _"...Hello? Tatooine to Maridian, come back to the surface!" S_ onika interrupted her wonderings, which jarred Maridian out of her thoughtful trance. She acknowledged her Twi'lek friend with a blink and a slight shake of her head.

"Sorry," she sighed, scratching her head while moving towards the room she and Henna shared, "Just got lost for a second."

Sonika laughed, " _Trust me, I noticed. You get into thinking and it's goodbye Maridian,"_ Her chortle was good-natured, which made Maridian smile in return. Sonika wagged a finger at her briefly then pulled her thumb over her shoulder to gesture out of range of the call, " _I'll make sure to have some tea prepared for when you come,"_ The pain in her chest began to simmer now, no longer the flaming pain she had endured upon first thoughts of her situation as her friend gave her a genuine attempt at sympathy and cheer.

Regardless, Maridian silently cursed her heart for being so unsettled and uncertain in times when settled certainty was necessary. " _Travel safe, please. I don't want to have to buy you off the Jawas."_

Maridian nodded, casually saluted, and smirked lightly at her friend. "Just make sure it's a square deal. I'll see you soon," and then ended the call, placing the device in her breeches pocket. After that, she double checked the kitchen and pulled on a pair of tattered gloves for travel across the sands, reaching for the hood of her cloak while moving towards the door.

Quickly she moved out of the house, letting her thoughts fly on the hot wind of the Tatooine afternoon. She stopped beside her father, who was watching Henna and Remy splash lightly out behind the barn at the freshly repaired pump, thanks to Ben. She, noting the loss, went to charge after them.

"Henna! Remy, don't waste –"

Her father's gentle hand touched her arm, and she looked up it at his face. Weathered and looking older than she remembered, she saw the tired apology in his eyes and stopped. "Let them alone, Maridian," he said quietly. Their laughter bubbled on the air and he smiled, closing his eyes. "Their laughter lightens me."

She paused for a moment and nodded, "Papa." With that said, he moved to take her hand in his and kissed her knuckles tenderly. Then, he looked up at her, and she finally noticed his eyes begin to water. There was a brief pause between them, and for a moment she saw the father she remembered in her youth.

That father dashed back into darkness, swiftly. "I got a call this morning from Talor." He swallowed and then rubbed the growing mustache above his lip.

She felt her heart pitch into her chest, but supplied a soft smile, however forced. "Oh." She had reasoned to say more than that, but her throat constricted after the simple reply had left her tongue: that was all there was to say about the entire situation, "oh". There was nothing more.

A tear slipped from his eye and down his cheek, leaving a clean trail on his dirtied face. His hands were lightly covered in sand particles, which rubbed against the sleeve of her tunic. Without reservation he continued, "He has officially asked for your hand in marriage, and has agreed to the dowry."

Her heart plummeted, and she felt burning pain erupt in the dark cavern of her heart. As if a light had been extinguished, she felt blackness overtake her soul, and she rolled her lower lip and bit on it, nodding. "Of course," she said hallowly, "that's grand."

Suddenly, he erupted in a sob and took her hand in her own and squeezed it, bringing it to his forehead, rocking back and forth in the dilapidated chair. "Oh, my sweet Maridian," he moaned, rocking back and forth continually.

He did this for consecutive moments, and Maridian willed herself not to cry. However, when his trembling lips kissed her hand, her resolve shattered into a thousand pieces across the sands and tears escaped her eyes. Her stomach quaked and the chambers of her heart rattled with the grief of a woman's fate now sealed. She dropped to her knees before her father's chair, and pressed their intertwined hands to her forehead, sobbing like a widow.

"My child," her father whispered, the echoes of Henna and Remy's childlike laughter distant before them now, lost in the hallow sobs. He grabbed her chin and tilted it up to look at him, her curls fallen now into her face and plastered to her tear-stricken face. Maridian didn't even try to hide her trembling, "you do not love Talor," he confirmed, shaking his head, "you do not love him, nor could you ever."

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, "I don't love him, Papa. I don't, and I don't know if I ever can," her throat burned like sulfur had bubbled up from the depths of her soul. She looked up at him, her hand shaking, and repeatedly kissed the back of his hand in an attempt to restore the empty pain in her body. "But I _have_ to," she patted his hand not and sniffled, blinking furiously, "I have to love him, or at least try, Papa. You and Henna and Remy need me to love him – we need his help."

He said nothing, instead released her hand, and then balled them into fists. Rage overcame his eyes and painted a deep mask of red up his neck, which exploded onto his face. "Need is no reason to marry," he hissed like a serpent, and then looked back to her, "love is the only reason to marry, my dear, sweet child." He then released his fist and cupped his hand along her cheek, tipping his head to smile gently at her. "And you love another man."

And suddenly, as if caught in a forbidden act, she froze solid into a stone pillar of terrified pity and exposure.

She didn't look up from her lap, but still her father continued. "You're in love with Ben Kenobi," the light approval in his voice was like a warm honey racing down her body; or the soothing ointment that numbed the sore flesh of her disease.

Maridian, ever hesitantly, looked up at him. She swallowed, staring into his eyes – unmoving. She searched for a nod of approval or any type of recognition, but instead found his sparkling eyes of affirmation. "You are so far in love with him that I can hardly recognize you," he chortled, then stroked her cheek with his calloused thumb, "just like I loved your mother when I first rested eyes on her."

A sob caught in her throat, and she captured it in her mouth by placing trembling hands to her lips, staring at him in waiting. He _knew_. How had he known, when she hadn't even been certain herself? A thousand questions blazed through her mind's eye, unanswered and forbidden in light of such a life as she led. Her father had known – and had he conceded to a marriage with Talor? Had he talked to Ben?

 _Wait._ Did he know if Ben loved her, too? _Oh, father…_

As if reading her very thoughts stated, "Don't fret so much, sweetheart," he let his gaze wander to Remy and Henna, Maridian staring up at him as if he were a god dropped down from the skies, "because I fear to admit that Ben Kenobi is in love with you as well, though I think he's unsure of it."

Her heart hung up like an engine out of tune, and then he turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "I will find a way for you, Maridian. I promise you – you will be free of this life, I swear it. I swear upon my own grave that you will be free of this."

She, nodding without words, took his hands and pressed a strong kiss to them, then stood. Quickly squeezing his hands, she dipped to kiss his cheek and croaked a whisper into his ear, "Thank you, Papa,"

He touched her cheek and squeezed her hands in his own again too, "I love you," he whispered, then quickly flicked her nose tenderly. She smiled at him and nodded, then straightened and stepped away from him a few paces.

"And I love you," she retorted, drying her eyes on her sleeves. And, as she turned away to approach the barn and the speeder, she could not deny that small burst of hope that had planted in her soul, however small.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Mos Eisley was as much hell as the desert was.

Plagued with its fair share of thieves and traders and wanderers, there was as much mystery here in this city than in the galaxy. Possessing a myriad of different species, races, genders, beings, and wares, the streets were littered with talks of different tongues and dialects that Maridian would never have been able to navigate having never stepped foot into the city. With one of the largest spaceports on the planet, Mos Eisley was a breeding ground of newcoming traffic and frequent fliers. A dangerous, deplorable, reckless collection of buildings and beings that dared called itself a civilized city.

Why anyone wanted to live within Mos Eisley's borders was a mystery to Maridian, but she knew plenty of girls and men alike who had ventured here for the city's wealth and prosperity. While being a disgusting mixture of vile existence and culture, Eisley was wealthy with credits and attention from smugglers and traders – and well out of the eye of the Empire and whatever governing authorities would curb the monetary gain. Jabba the Hutt had strong pull in Mos Eisley, so that added even more glint to the deceptively glittering gem called Mos Eisley.

What never ceased to surprise Maridian as she moved carefully through the crowds was the amount of people out, even in the hottest hours of the Tatooine day. The dark seasons were cooler than any other time on Tatooine, but late afternoon was still hot, even after the suns began to dip across the sky – and despite that fact, these people were still shopping and _out._ The logic was almost inexistent.

The sands were scorching as she tromped over the packed ground, behind a stinking Trandoshian carrying a rather large load across his shoulders, and sweat poured down the back of her neck in a never-ending stream. Already keenly aware of the stares she accumulated as she'd made her way from docking her speeder, she was not about to drop her hood until she was well hidden within Sonika Turros' shelter.

Sonika lived in a peppier part of the city – well away from the slums, but not yet into the wealthy pools of living. She lived right on the brink between hominess and homelessness, and did well for herself. From the docking bays, she was roughly a ten minute walk – which proved good for business. Ten minutes might as well have been an eternity in this heat; four eternities with the stares Maridian felt burning in the back of her neck.

After politely refusing to buy a number of exotic fruits, and then not so politely refusing a man's horrific offer of services exclusively reserved for females, she found Sonika's building. It was a tapered little place between a mechanic's shop and a eatery, not at all far from gambling booths that would allow individuals to place bets on races as far as Anchorhead and Mos Espa. On the other side of the small courtyard, Maridian checked both ways of the bustling cross and jogged across, finally stepping under the canopy that read in basic: _Turros and Bagdenese._

Turros, of course, for Sonika's namesake. As she stepped towards the opened door, she spotted through the carved window space Sonika, back to the door, taking inventory on a shelf stacked with energy capacitators. A few feet away stood a hulking Twi'lek man with deep blue skin and black markings – almost a head and shoulders taller than herself and twice as wide. His arms were thick with rippling muscle beneath his gray tunic, with equally strong legs. This was the Bagdenese of the store: the half-owner – and owner of Sonika's "he's only a partner" defense.

Really, Utarri Bagdenese was more than that, Maridian knew. She'd met him two or three times over the years, him remaining the same as Sonika seemed to change every time she saw the woman. He had been in love with Sonika the moment he had laid eyes on her upon her arrival to Mos Eisley, and had supported her strongly in her business. Funded half the project, actually, and had made a strong name for them as a team.

Stepping through the door, Maridian dropped her cape and ignored the dull throb behind her eyes as she moved into the store carefully. Brushing aside a curl, she removed her gloves and shoved them into the waist of her breeches, then crossed her arms. Both store owners were blissfully unaware of her presence, and she smirked, cocking a hip.

"Well. If this is how you treat customers, it's a wonder how you stay in business."

With nothing more said, Sonika whirled around and practically dropped the datapad she'd been holding, her lekku stiffly shifting as she did so. Her lovely skin shone healthily, and she bridged the distance between them in three swift, strong strides, ultimately throwing her arms around Maridian in a welcoming hug. She squeezed tightly.

"It is good to see you, my friend," her voice was muffled as she rubbed Maridian's shoulder, then released and pulled back, taking her hands in her own. She smiled beautifully, her dashing green eyes the envy of life itself. Her smile faded suddenly as her eyes scanned Maridians, "and I was right. You look exhausted,"

Maridian rolled her eyes, "Enough with how I look," she batted away the thought and stepped by her friend, nodding to Utarri, who beamed brightly from his place against a table of curberator's. His hulking arms were crossed over his chest as he nodded to her, and she acknowledged him with a dip of her head. "and it is good to see you, Utarri."

He grinned at her and nodded again, saying nothing. A man of less words, Sonika followed Maridian to the counter and moved around it, gathering sprawled parts and datapads into a heaping pile before her. She gestured to the door and waved her hand frantically, as if she'd close it that way.

"Okay then, let's close up," she said, rushed, "no more business! I have tea simmering on the stove and stuff baked in the kitchen – let's hope it's edible – so I'm closed!" She shooed Utarri towards the door and frowned at him when he shook his head, "Go, man! Close the door before they stampede in here like wild bantha's!"

He obeyed, and Maridian fiddled with an extension wrench in her hands, watching her friend work frantically behind the counter. Only once she was finished did she wave Maridian towards the back, where a darkened stair-well led upstairs to the two's home.

Surprised when Utarri followed them and swerved to the living area, Maridian touched her friend's arm once they'd entered the kitchen, watching him go with an uncertain frown. Sonika looked at her curiously, and then Maridian gestured to the Twi'lek man.

Sonika moved towards a cupboard, nodding. Her lekku twitched. "Oh, yeah. Didn't I tell you? Utarri and I were married in the spring season." It was so casual that it almost knocked Maridian's head off her shoulders.

Dumbfounded, Maridian's hand drooped from the point she gestured to the man's entrance with. Her face dropped into a frown and she abruptly crossed her arms, stiffly. Sonika contemplated her for a moment before setting two glasses on the counter and crossing for the pot of tea. Then she waved it off, "Don't worry about it. It was a private thing – we didn't want anyone to notice."

Hurt and somewhat infuriated, Maridian seated herself at Sonika's gesture, frowning. "Notice? You change your hair and people don't 'notice'," she made quotes with her fingers as Sonika slipped the cup in front of her graciously, then seated herself slowly, "you got married and expected no one to notice? Sonika!"

She shrugged and brought the tea to her face and breathed in the minty cloud rising from the steaming depths, "It's a simple thing. We didn't want to make a big deal out of it," she shrugged again, "we've been in love forever anyway, so we decided just to get married and call it good."

Dumbfounded again, Maridian fell back into the chair. She hadn't seen Sonika in months, and the woman was the same as she'd left her in spirit, however much her body had changed. She carried on the conversational statement as if she'd been her yesterday and not in months. Maridian blinked, shook her head, and put up a hand to ward off any other defensive statements Sonika might make for herself. As if marriage was just a casual thing to "call it good" – marriage was foundational. Life-altering.

The word that came to mind was _necessary._

She tossed Sonika a hurt and poutish look.

"Don't look at me like that," Sonika chortled warningly, "it isn't a big deal, really! We just love each other, and that's why we decided to get married. You and I both knew it was coming," she set her cup down and gestured, placing a hand to her chest, "and really, I thought we'd talked about this, Mari. Life has been really busy for both of us – I didn't mean to hurt you or keep you in the dark, I promise. I'm sorry."

A bit better now with an apology. Maridian settled into her chair and stroked her fingertip around the rim of her cup, letting the heated material soothe whatever frazzle her nerves had picked up. She sighed into the cloud of minty steam and then shifted a look to Sonika, who watched her with glinting eyes. Marriage fit her friend well, as she'd rounded out in the hips decently and glowed with a newlywed gleam that the suns would rival.

"Now," Sonika shifted in her chair, sat back, and draped a long leg over her knee, bringing her tea back to her face again for another long breath. A devious look flecked through her eyes, and a smile slowly painted onto her lips. Maridian's gut plummeted to the floor almost immediately, dread coming to fill the emptiness like a flood of coarse sands.

"Tell me about this Ben. I've been dying to know."

* * *

Obi-Wan drove the shovel deeper into the pit of sand he'd been working in for the past two hours, his hands slicking down the shaft of the shovel in slick movements of sweaty ease. He muffled a curse, sank to his knees for a brief reprieve, and fell against the walls of the pit.

Curse Talor and his needless tasks, he reminded himself. Force help him if the man was not driving him insane and instead just working him to death these past two weeks since his dinner at the Hail range. He'd been up to his neck in mundane, mindless tasks that seemed to serve no purpose other than to get him out of Talor's way and into more mindless work that would drive a Tuskan Raider to arms.

Without complaint, however, Obi-Wan had reasoned he had enough credits put away to at least attempt a down-payment on the old hovel that Bartholomew Hail had suggested. With no word from the Larses, Obi-Wan minded greatly that he had not been out that direction to check on Anakin's boy. He minded even more that he had not yet observed the homestead abandoned by the family Bartholomew had told of.

Perhaps his irritability rested more in the fact that he had not heard word from the Hail's – at all. They had not been into the village for supplies for almost two weeks since his dinner with the family, which drove him to mere insanity. Perhaps not their lack of supplies, but the wondering about Maridian and her force-sensitivity.

At least, that's what he willed himself to believe he was concerned with, on the surface. But, subconsciously, Obi-Wan was well aware that it was more than his concern that needed appealed by sight of her. Something was lacking inside of him outside of her presence –had he really acquired so quickly a taste of her company that he now felt bored without her?

Perhaps not bored, he reminded himself, but simply lonely. As Talor kept busy and seemed to distance himself – which, in its own way drove Obi-Wan to speculation – the Jedi Master spent much of time alone, working. Which was fine, he reassured himself, he caulked up the time to brief meditations and ponderings of the events he had so desperately tried to forget, but had failed to. Instead he worked, and reasoned with himself that every decision he made was not necessarily imperative, but with their own consequences.

Maridian. Luke. Tatooine. The Jedi. Attachments. Exile. Surviving Jedi. The Order. The list was like a broken record, playing over and over in his thoughts that continually renewed his worries and regrets each and every morning, and in every breath. He had nothing more to do than worry about them and work, and perhaps worry some more. He and Anakin's lightsabers, tucked away in his belongings, were sharp reminders of duty each time he rested his head to sleep.

And the force. Blast the force, it was consistently plaguing him with visions and concoted dreams of Maridian Hail. He continually renewed his nightmare of her being swallowed by the masked figure each time he closed his eyes for sleep – and, if it wasn't her, it was the charred lifeform that he had abandoned on Mustafar all those years before.

He set back to work, piercing his shovel into the sands again, shoulders pounding with throbbing aches. When Obi-Wan's muscles didn't ache, they burned; and when they didn't burn, they tightened continually with the wear of stress and uncertainty. Because he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Each day presented its own challenges that not even the most accomplished Jedi could overcome. He had once been revered in the Order; one of the strongest and most talented Jedi the Order had seen, they'd said. Fearless and stubborn and unbending in the war, and even more uncompromising on the Council. What had changed?

Times had changed, he reasoned. With the Jedi Order gone under the Empire and Darth Vader's reign as the pawn of a Sith Lord, he feared the Order had died within him. His hope in the Jedi, crashed into burning pieces as he'd left Anakin to burn in a hellion of fire and regrets. With no Order to guide him, what was he to do? Whom did he trust? Certainly not himself, it seemed, because his heart pulsed in so many directions that he was uncertain of which way to go.

His greatest fear had been confronted by Master Yoda so many years before, after the battle of Geonosis and before the mission with Bail Organa to Zigoola: attachment. Obi-Wan, as a youth, had been excessively stubborn and hotheaded, he would admit. But, he would have never guess of himself that he would struggle with attachments – he had never known them, as a boy raised in the Temple walls. He was uncertain of the emotion and the pull of heart that would even _be_ attachment – and had never really been curious. Sure, he reasoned, he'd been sexually attracted to women – Satine, Siri, of course – but were those "attachments"? How did he know _what_ constituted as attachment?

As he threw a shovel-full of sand over his shoulder, Obi-Wan came to the swift conclusion that he did know what the grounds of attachment were: he was _experiencing_ them, even as blood pushed through his pounding heart, now. He was becoming attached to Maridian Hail and her family, as he caught himself looking forward to their company each and every day. He battled with the rising of the sun each morning if he would see her again or not, and he wondered about her force-sensitivity and safety with every other breath. Almost more than Luke. Thoughts of her came almost as regularly as the fears of the Empire did.

He was uncertain of the development; undecided. How was he to maintain the Jedi Order with the Jedi gone? With Anakin and his other counterparts dead under Order 66, it left him and Master Yoda – if he still survived – to bear the duty alone. It was too dangerous to take padawans and rebuild the Order, even out here in the deserts of Tatooine. Did that make the Order extinct? Or did it still live inside of him, echoing in his heart?

Obi-Wan had never imagined he'd have to question such thoughts and ponder them in his existence, as he'd always known the Order of the Jedi to be _there_. It had never faltered in all his thirty-five years of life. And now, it simply was gone; washed away in a flood of death and hatred and deception. Now, what once confidently marked him as a Jedi – his lightsaber – sat deeply in the darkness of his secret belongings, beside Anakin's, forever a symbol of the death and shame within the Empire. It was a mark of death, if brought into the light. Which he could live with, but he was not the only one at stake: Maridian, Luke, Yoda, and others, he assumed, all rode on his ability to remain secretive.

Sinking down to his knees, he let the shovel drop from his hands. The infamous Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order, the famed Negotiator of the Clone Wars, covered his eyes with his hands and wept bitterly. Sobs shook his body like a throttle of wind, tossing his emotions like a toy ship in a bathtub of water. Grief threatened to choke the life out of him, swallowing his heart with each sharp and painful breath. Stabbing pain erupted in his shoulders, awakening old wounds and igniting the scars of a fate now sealed. No one came to dry his tears like they had when he was a child in the Temple; no one offered him words of comfort. The force did not wrap him like a warm blanket of security, instead like a distant light in a dark tunnel of uncertainty.

And, for the first time in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi felt utterly and truly alone.

* * *

"That's all, huh?"

An hour and a half and two pots of tea later had brought them to the conclusion of Maridian's goings-on about Ben Kenobi.

Thankfully.

She could hardly stand to say another word about the wandering gentleman, much less think about him in full description, as she'd been doing for the past hour. A picture of him in the back of her mind had accompanied her telling Sonika of his recent arrival to Talba, as well as the aching _thumps_ of her heartbeat.

She hadn't left out anything. If there was one person on Tatooine that Maridian could trust with such a tale it would be Sonika. She confessed everything from her arranged marriage to her feelings about Ben – well, not exactly everything, as she left out her secretive ability that had plagued her that first night having made Ben's acquaintance. Other than that, she had explained every painstaking detail to the Twi'lek woman and her cup of tea.

And now, standing at her friend's blank and entirely dumbfounded expression, Maridian felt like sobbing. She wanted nothing more than to drown her sorrows in the tea kettle that Sonika had been insistent about filling _twice_ , and wallow in her self pity. Instead, from the hard look on Sonika's face and the twinkling passion in her eye, Maridian sensed that she was about the get the exactly _opposite_ from her best friend.

Aghast with surprise, she blinked. "What do you mean 'that's all'?" She threw her hands into the air, flippantly. "That's my life, the long way around!" She began to pace now, her fingertips finding her hair and running mid-way through her curled locks, which she had released from her fallen braid mid-way through their conversation.

Sonika sighed, "I was just trying to…" her eyes followed Maridian's pacing, and she sighed and set her empty cup down. Slapping the table forcefully, she got up and came to Maridian, and touched her arm. "…Anyway, it doesn't matter. Look at me."

Maridian dropped her hand from her mouth, where she had been nervously nibbling on a fingernail. She locked eyes with her best friend, and when Sonika tipped her head and smiled softly, her eyes brimmed with tears. Sonika touched her cheek and brushed aside another curl.

"You are so beautiful, my friend. Your spirit is baffling." She rubbed Maridian's shoulders, "And I can see that you love this man, Ben; whoever he is. It's painted like a sunset in your eyes." She bit her lower lip.

Maridian squeaked out a sob, then closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand. She shook her head, "But I…I don't want to be in love with him," she whispered shakily, "I mean…I didn't _mean_ to fall…I, I have to marry Talor. Papa needs me…" the words started running together as she gestured incohesively, and she felt her legs buckle.

Sonika guided her to a chair and crouched beside her, as Maridian wept bitterly. A piece of her seemed to dissolve into her bloodstream, as if stricken with an acidic poison. She sat a good moment, sobbing wildly, until Utarri came to check on them – and, at Sonika's wave, disappeared back from where he came. Sonika then stood, kicked a chair out behind her, and wrapped her arms around Maridian and sat, holding her.

She shushed her quietly, patting her hair, as Maridian's tears streamed down her lovely shoulder. She sucked in air raggedly, letting her muscles tighten with grief, as her soul poured into the air all its pain and dark uncertainty there in Sonika's kitchen. Maridian felt forceful tugging in her stomach, rising heat, and overwhelming fear wash over her in waves and waves, and clung to her best friend as if she were the last shred of life in this hopeless void.

Finally, she was able to speak, "I…I wish my mother was here," she whispered raggedly, "I don't know what to do…"

Sonika sighed deeply, then parted them and cupped Maridian's face in her tattooed hands. "I know you do. You miss her dearly, in moments like this." She smiled weakly, "Do what your heart leads, Maridian. Otherwise you will live to regret this decision forever," she gave her a weak chuckle.

She blinked. But, wasn't her heart deceived? Until Ben had arrived, she had no issue with marrying Talor. Well, at least not as big an issue: while she was certain she had not loved him, she had been able to live with the idea of marrying him to help her family. And now, even then, she could hardly stand the idea of becoming his wife. Ben had cast a shadow of deception across her heart now, and she had sunken into it.

The fact of the matter remained: she had to marry Talor to pay off her debts and save her family. Otherwise, life itself would not be worth living. She could not be happy with Ben if her family starved and collapsed under the pressure of debts she wouldn't be able to pay. What was worse? Being unhappy, but with her family provided by marriage to Talor, or being happy and watching her family perish with Ben? Which poison?

While her heart shrieked for Ben, it beat for her family.

"I know," was all she could muster for her friend, "I know."

And even then it felt like a lie.

* * *

Atonas swung off the speeder at the Mos Eisley docking bay, then shoved a pile of credits to the bay attendant, his counterpart not but a few steps behind him.

Their journey back to this city had started with the information from the cantina that the Hail girl had left her family's homestead earlier that afternoon. There had not been a more beautiful turn of events, Atonas reasoned – there were too many eyes in Talba to do his job.

Too many eyes that cared, anyway. While there were many more eyes in Mos Eisley, none of them cared for the beautiful Hail daughter in a way that Talba did. The little whore could vanish entirely here and no one would bat an eye. But in Talba? He dared to guess the very suns would stand still at such an event.

Why she was here, he didn't know. If she knew what was good for her, she'd steer clear of Jabba's Palace, otherwise she'd be in far deeper than she could ever imagine. But, if he could find her, he'd relay whatever message she desired to get across – regardless if she desired one or not.

He looked to his Zabrak friend. "Go and check the cantina," he hissed, "she might be there."

His friend huffed, said nothing, and left to do his bidding. Atonas meandered along with a sharp eye on the streets, looking for the lovely desert blossom through the throng of space travelers and other tagalongs. Hands shoved deep into his breeches pockets, he felt his blood lace suddenly with adrenaline when he saw the hooded figure of a woman step out the door of a parts vendor, the shop called _Turros and Bagdanese._

And, before she could pull the hood over her features, he saw her.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Obi-Wan staggered back into Talor's office two hours later from his hole-digging expedition, to find the man sitting at his desk with slicked back hair and decent clothes on. He sank into the chair across from Talor's desk, which signaled a look up from the man.

Exhaling, he fell back into the chair, arms draped over the sides. Sweat cascaded down his temple and soaked the collar of his tunic – not that any other part wasn't already wet with sweat. He closed his eyes momentarily, then Talor shuffled in his chair.

"Glad you see you're in one piece," he sounded genuinely surprised, "but I will say I didn't think you'd get that done in a day." He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, "Would've taken most men at least a day and a half to dig a hole that deep."

Obi-Wan chuckled and looked at the man without raising his head from the back of the chair. He gave him an ever-so-slight shrug of the shoulder. "I believed we've already discussed that I'm not like other men,"

Talor laughed heartily and stood, "I guess we did," he opened the drawer to the desk, pulled out a pouch of credits, and tossed it on Obi-Wan's lap. It landed with a soft jingle, and he didn't move to intercept it. "That's for the week, like we discussed. Put something extra in there."

Obi-Wan popped an eye open at the man, feeling the bristle rush through the force ever so slightly. With a slight press into it, he found a hint of unease rise in the man. He'd sensed Talor's uneasiness about him before and now sat up to grab the pouch.

"Talor, really. You do not –"

He put up his hand as if to ward off the comment, "I know, but you seem like a good man from what I can tell. And I heard from Bartholomew that you're looking to buy the old moisture farm a few kliks out." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, and then leaned on the corner of his desk. "Hopefully that'll get you where you need to be."

Wrinkling his brow, Obi-Wan blinked speculatively, mostly in disbelief. "Wait. Are you saying -?"

He chuckled, "I'm saying, Ben, that you're a fine guy, and I like your work. But you seem to, at least to me, be a man of your own mind. I think if you strike out on your own, you'll do much better than you're doing here." He threw his head back and laughed now, "And besides – I'm plum out of things for you to do. For pity's sake, I had you dig a _hole_."

For a vaporator, Obi-Wan reminded himself. He lifted the pouch, fingering it through his hands, then abruptly stood. "No, this is not right. I couldn't possibly –"

Talor stood to meet him, his hulking frame freezing Obi-Wan were he stood and making him extremely aware of the man's size. He felt a tightening in the force and a sharp jab of warning – something wasn't right here, at all, but he played the man the wiser.

Talor approached, put his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, and gave him a strong look. "Don't worry about it, Ben. Really." He gave him a nonchalant life of his shoulder, "Least I could do for the man who's helped me catch up. Not to mention saved my girl."

Obi-Wan froze, almost not recognizing the glint in the man's eyes – and also the deceptive stab in the force. He felt his stomach plummet, then roll over, and finally pitch into his throat. He blinked a few times, his face twisting into confusion, as his unkempt hair fell into his face. He was painfully aware of his own blunder.

"I beg your pardon?" He was hardly certain of what he'd just heard. Felt. Sensed. This man was lying to him?

Talor let his hands drop from his shoulder, jaw set, then moved towards the door. "Yeah, you know. Helped get me caught up with the business, all that." He was dodging the obvious reference to Maridian Hail, his body tensing. Obi-Wan could see the muscles in his shoulder pull tight.

Obvious signs of lying.

"That's not what I meant, Talor." He was dangerously aware of his tone, the pouch still in his hands. He felt his heart began to beat against his ribcage as if it were flogging his very bones. His nerves steeled in the force as the man glanced over his shoulder.

"I know what you meant," the man said, voice deep and gravelly. In the doorway, he suddenly turned, pointed a finger at him, and glared. "And I know what you're trying to do. Maridian Hail is promised to _me,_ and I won't give her up without a fight, Kenobi. Count on that."

His eyes widened, and he had to set every inch of his focus not to let his jaw drop.

"You might a big shot where you come from in whatever you did," Talor narrowed his eyes at him, and pointed sharper at him from across the room, "but around here, I'm the big shot. This is my village, and Maridian is _my_ girl." He pulled his thumb to his chest, "And I won't stand by a watch a offworld-wanderer fill her heart with fairytale dreams and stories. She's a Tatooine girl – and that's what she's staying. You can take those credits and go to your little hut in the middle of the desert and leave her alone, and no one will be the wiser."

He lifted his chin, glaring at the man now. Rage boiled and threatened his chest, as Talor too raised his chin in defiant rebellion. Obi-Wan now understood the hesitancy he'd felt around the man clearly – it was the dark side, and evil. This man was rotten to the very core of his being. How had he missed such tell-tale signs? For a moment he pressed into him to sense the force in him, but found nothing: the man was simply good at masquerading and in his emotional state Obi-Wan had missed it.

Not a good development at all. "Maridian is an independent young woman, Talor," he said, his tone eerily calm like it always was in the middle of a forceful negotiation, "she will decide for herself what she will become." And, to his surprise, he failed to deny the man's accusations against him.

"It would be unwise for you to threaten me," he finally added.

Talor snorted in disbelief, "Just goes to show what little you know of her," he gave him a wickedly twisted smile and casual lift of his shoulders, "blood runs thicker than water, Kenobi. Especially around here." He stopped before turning to go, "And, for the record – you don't scare me, friend." He snorted the platitude out of his nose like a wild creature.

Obi-Wan said nothing. He watched the man leave, taking the darkness in the force with him. He reached up, ran his fingers through his hair, and clenched his fist around the money pouch. Obi-Wan eyed it, then exhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

Things had gotten complicated, when all he'd wanted was simple. But, then again – life was anything but simple for a Jedi in exile.

* * *

Maridian got the odd feeling someone was eyeing her as she left Sonika's storefront a few hours after their time together. Sonika had sent her on her way after eating a delicious dinner, with the carberuator part tucked safely away in her satchel.

Feeling that suspicion float through her gut like a powerful hovercraft, she looked around her before pulling the hood over her eyes. The streets had thinned out with people now, many having turned in for the evening as vendors began to close up their stores. Maridian weighed the idea of going to see Jabba, as she should, but thought better of it – best to leave sleeping monsters slumber than rock the boat. She didn't have the money she owed him anyway, and he had lackeys in Talba following her.

She moved through the streets towards the docking bay, where her speeder would be parked and waiting for her. Maridian hadn't noticed she'd been checking over her shoulder more frequently than not, her skin bristled with bumps of uncertainty – she wandered aimlessly through the street, those few people who brushed by her irritated by her lack of attention. She'd apologized numbly, at odds with her paranoia, when she'd finally turned the corner to the docking bay.

It was almost entirely vacated, save two speeder's parked a decent distance from hers. The bay was quiet, echoing with the blowing wind and muffled whispers of the vendor. She nodded to him politely and made her way towards the stall where her speeder was hovering, twisting her hands beneath her cloak as her eyes darted. Suddenly, her feelings heightened with a wave of heat and whirled her around suddenly.

Her heart shrieked and plummeted blood through her veins like icy flames all at once. There, leaning against the door, was Atonas and Matham – Jabba's lackeys who had been following her in Talba, grinning at her like hunters having sprung a trap on innocent prey.

Maridian was sure all the color drained from her face, and she backed up slowly, throat paralyzed for words. She felt every ounce of her begin to numb with fear as they entered the building, a few yards from her, smiling wickedly. Thoughts began racing through her head and seemed to echo in the emptiness there – she whipped a look to the vendor, who had suddenly vanished from the counter, as if in perfect sync.

The Twi'lek and Zabrak came at her in a sauntering, lackadaisical pace, Atonas' hands in his pockets casually, Matham's huge arms crossed over his chest. Maridian began to sweat as squeaks of fear began to rattle in her throat, which suddenly possessed with life. An overwhelming fear wrapped around her chest and seized every breath of air in lungs like a constricting serpent, and she began shaking her head, as if it would make them vanish from this nightmare. She had, after all, heard their threats – had seen their work.

 _No, no, no…this can't be happening…_ were on the only words circling around her brain. Then, a small thought popped into her heat from her gut. One that she never had thought before in their presence, but one that made all the sense in the desert world: _Run._

And, with a sudden possession, she burst into a run, propelled through the air like an animal as the ability pulled her away from a standing position. Without thought, she bolted towards the back of the shop, Atonas and Matham right behind her in lightning fast pursuit.

Suddenly, the vendor appeared, carrying a box in the corridor leading towards the back exit of the bay. He furrowed his brow as Maridian came barreling down the corridor, cloak billowing behind her, then screamed a shrieking "Hey!" at her as she literally pushed him aside back into the dark room he'd exited.

Then, she roughly collided with the door, punched the button and ignored the burst of pain in her fingers, whipping a look over her shoulder to see Atonas and Matham take the hall in long, thick strides. Her heart burned with pain, her lungs begging for merciful air, legs screaming in protest as she took off like a racing pod from the doorway and around the building.

She pumped her arms, praying silently that she'd take flight, but was firmly anchored on the ground. Without thought, she shoved past a woman and child, stumbling in the street to correct as her boots slipped through the rough and coarse sands. She peddled forward, kicking up sand, and burst with newfound speed in her legs she had never found before, back towards Sonika's building.

Blood pulsated through her ears like shrieking starships, her cloak heavy with wind resistance as she moved. She could sense Atonas and Matham's frantic rage in her stomach and could practically feel their heartbeats in sync with the pounding blood in her jugular. Her arms pumped heavily and steady as she zigzagged through Mos Eisley's streets, looking frantically for anywhere to get away and hide – to vanish.

Fear long sense turned into panicking terror, she swerved right into a deep alleyway no wider than two speeders. She pulled up short when she saw it was a dead-end, briefly aware of her predicament, and slid to a stop in the sands. Realizing her position, she came around and was about to burst forward again when Atonas and Matham swung around the corner and staggered into the alleyway.

Sweat had formed a thick coat on her skin and stuck her clothing to her body, fear now icing her hot skin like a bakery good as they came at her. She backed up slowly as their eyes scoured her body and a thousand explanations ran through her mind; a thousand more dark visions making themselves at home in her mind's eye. Maridian began to vibrate, until her body lurched to a stop as she hit the back wall of the alley.

Now within walking distance, they sauntered towards her and stopped an arm's length from her body. She pressed against the wall, waiting and hoping for it to swallow her, on her tip toes to muster whatever intimidating height she could against the two hulking lackeys. She clamped her throat shut as sweat poured down her face from her hair.

"How nice to see you again, Miss Hail," Atonas said, his voice sounding like poisonous silk in the dark alleyway. He came to stand before her, braced his legs a shoulder's width apart, his scarlet skin soaked with sweat. He gave her a cocky smirk and crossed his arms over his chest. "But I would be foolish to think you'd be happy to see me, wouldn't I? Considering the circumstances, that is."

She could say nothing, only watch him as if he were a serpent ready to strike. Pain echoed through her body, and she tried to surface that active buzzing of the ability in her chest for strength. However, it just clashed like a cymbal against her abdomen. She continued to vibrate, strength sapping away in her tightened nerves. He clucked his tongue as Matham paced a small march behind him, eyes cemented on her body.

Then, Atonas stretched out a hand and stroked her cheek with a rough, calloused hand. She jerked away, suddenly afraid that his hand would turn into septic acid as it snaked down her jaw and to her throat, tenderly. "I will say that you are one of our…loveliest customers," he drawled, then licked his lower lip.

In a flashing instant, his tender touch snapped, and he clutched her savagely at the throat. She squeaked and flung her hands to his wrist, her nails digging into his scarlet flesh as his muscles rippled to lift her off the ground. Her back rubbed against the rough wall, and she felt the sores on her skin tear open as warm blood began to flow.

Her eyes pinched shut as her vision began to blur with dark spots dancing to get her attention. Maridian's body furiously struggled against him, aching and shrieking for air as her lungs burned as if they'd been set to flame. Her stomach exploded with a roaring pain as its contents began to sour and curdle. Her swirling senses began to flip sporadically in her soul and pulled for release, and her fingertips began to burn with prickling tension.

Then, when her eyes flittered closed and her body began to sink into relaxation, she abruptly was dropped and the floor attacked her. Collapsing into the shaded, cool sands, her fingers dug into their grainy, welcoming envelopment as the world still blurred in a swirling haze. Maridian's lungs began to choke in air, and her stomach pooled with relief as she rolled over onto her back, struggling to come to grips with the bright red figure beside the green one.

A foggy realization that could very well kill her danced through her mind, but she was so overcome with paralytic haziness that she choked on her own tongue. Gagging as her throat reconstructed, she hadn't realized the shooting pain that erupted in her ribcage a few seconds after the impact of the red figure's boots – what was his name? Did it have a name? Or was the figure jus some type of demon out of the nine hells come to torture the life out of her?

Fierce, unforgiving pain stabbed through her body as she felt blood begin to pool in her body – or wait, was that the sand? Whatever it was, it fell into rhythm with her heartbeat, and she bit her tongue sharply, where more metallic blood sprang to life in her mouth and soaked her gums and teeth. She felt a strike of pain, almost like lightning, erupt in her hip as the green figure's boot slammed against her pelvis. She opened her mouth to shriek, but her vocal cords were numb and mute.

Then, crushing weight folded onto her chest and her side exploded like an atomic bomb as rounds of pain dropped into her chest like waves. Maridian suddenly realized, despite the blurriness of her painful haze and tears, that Atonas was on top of her. Some sharp and hard buried deep into her abdomen, as the boots of his heels dug into the flesh of her rounded hips, which were now settling with dark bruises.

Cold, calloused hands dipped beneath the collar of her tunic and snaked across her chest, nails dragging deeply into the soft flesh of her breasts. She writhed in pain and arched her back as the man's cackling laughter drowned with the deafness of unconsciousness plagued her ears. She fought the urge to fall into sleep, but suddenly found it impossible as his weight dragged down her body and came to rest on her now bruised and abused pelvis. Maridian was slightly aware that his hand had left her tunic and now tugged recklessly at the waist of her breeches. He threw his head back, delightfully cackling and moaning with some ravished and wicked pleasure that sent her spiraling into panic.

His hips rocked against hers, despite the fabric that separated them. Tears sprang harder into her eyes and a sob crackled in the back of her swelled and bruised throat. She gurgled, blood pooling in the back of her throat, and suddenly her throat filled with vomit and she gagged, choking on her own bile.

Suddenly, the man tumbled off of her into the sand, and somehow she pushed herself to roll over and vomited across the sandy allyway. Pain rocketed to life in her side where she assumed he had kicked her, and suddenly a thick hand grabbed at her mound of hair and yanked hard. She screamed, until a green hand clamped over her bloody and vomited-encased mouth.

Maridian couldn't hear them, the only sound muffled voices overpowered by the hammering pain in her body and the soft _thud, thud, thud_ of her heartbeat, which seemed faint and so very far away. Something in her gut was shrieking shrilly for release, pulling and fluttering and somersaulting. Briefly, she recalled weeks earlier being in the same predicament; feeling the sands beneath her as terror laced through her body, until someone had rescued her….

…Ben. She remembered Ben in her minds eyes, closed her eyes, and screamed for him in her gut. That emotion; that burning and swirling feeling, exploded in a burst in her abdomen and overtook her body in tingling power and fire, bursting to life with a thousand suns. She arched her back and drug her heels through the sands as two scarlet arms reached for her body. They grabbed her and the blob pulled himself back onto her, ripping at the belt of her pants…

…and then suddenly, as if possessed, she screamed and threw her hands at him, them finding the air. But, through hazy and blurry eyes, she saw him fling backwards into the adjoining alley wall and crack against the rough building, then slump to the ground. She hadn't even touched him, but felt the rush of force through her body, as the green blob rushed to intercept. Once the red figure was unmoving, he came at her and lunged, growling like a demonic animal.

She recoiled, curled into a ball, and thrust a single hand out at him again, as if to ward off his attack. She trembled in the sands, Maridian expecting more pain to blanket her body, but instead peeked out from behind her arm to find the green figure unconscious against the back wall she'd been braced against earlier, unmoving. Panic increased her breathing and though her lungs burned with pain, she sucked in air as if she were drowning in it. It weighed heavy in her chest like water strangling the life from her.

Unsure of what happened and delirious with pain, she lay vibrating in the sands, then sharply rolled over and vomited again. Choking on the mixture of blood, bile, and stomach contents, she rolled back over onto her back and stared at the clear sky.

Then, a very odd peace came, and her eyes fluttered closed as a pure and burning light welcomed her into slumber.

* * *

Obi-Wan trudged heavily up the cantina steps and out into the Tatooine night, which was heavy with boiling humidity and darkness. Limbs feeling more like strings of rubber, he somehow managed across the street of Talba to Talor's livery office, where he would collect his things and take shelter yet again in Issik's back room until morning.

Head foggy with both drink, heat, and exhaustion, he managed to collect his things numbly. Draping the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, he felt the two lightsabers fall against his thigh heavily with familiarity. Managing, somehow, to remain quiet, he made it back outside onto the porch, only to be greeted by a dark hooded figure at the bottom of Talor's steps, followed by a shy and familiar looking eopie.

He stopped, felt something overtake the force, and pondered the figure for a brief second before hands reached up to drop the hood from her face. Suddenly, the porcelain face of Henna Hail stared at him like the moons themselves, and she raced up the steps to grab the front of his tunic.

Obi-Wan snapped to life, pushed through the haziness of exhaustion and grabbed the girl by the forearms. She was trembling with fear, and her eyes were wide like plates as they scanned his. Every ounce of color he knew she possessed from times in the sun was awash in a white veil of terror. Her skin was pasty cold, and traced with sand. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow at her and sensed nothing but pure, unadulterated horror from her in the force.

Something collapsed in his gut as she managed to speak. "Ben," she asked, voice alive with quaking shakes, "have you seen Maridian? Is she here?"

Something rang in the force and pushed him forward in question. "No, Henna," She inhaled sharply and suddenly tears fell from her eyes and onto her cheeks, and she began to vibrate now. Her tight grip on his tunic relaxed as she fell into him, sobbing like fear and sorrow itself had taken form before him. He held her for a brief moment before pulling her off of him.

He pushed her back, knelt before her, and scanned her eyes carefully. "Henna. What has happened? Where is Maridian?"

She crossed one arm around her abdomen, the other coming to cover her trembling lips. She shook her head and blubbered out, "I..I don't know," her words were trembling out of her throat, "she went into Mos Eisley to see her friend and now she's not here," she exploded in a sob, "Ben, she's…she's not like this. She…she comes home. Calls…supposed to call…."

A hounding horror punched him in his gut, and alarm stabbed through the force as if it were cutting through jungle foliage. He swallowed thickly, rubbed her arm, and began situation his cloak around him from where it was draped on his arm. "Something's happened," he interjected his own thoughts to words, "You said she was in Mos Eisley?"

She nodded furiously and he yanked the hood over his head, tromping down the stairs with her hand in his. "What was she thinking? Did she go alone?"

Henna, without words, fumbled behind him and nodded again. Ben stopped before the eopie, then briefly considered Talor's livery building, where he knew the speeder's were kept. He focused, sought the force for any sign of Maridian, then cursed intelligibly when he realized she'd be out of range.

Yanking Henna behind him, he whipped the reigns to the eopie over the porch's railing, then madly marched through the sands towards the livery outbuilding.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks a bunch you guys for the reviews - so glad to see this piece ticking right along. I'm enjoying it so much as I plot it out and write it. I only hope to continue bringing joy to you as this brings to me. So excited to connect with you guys in reviews and PM's - I anticipate it every day!**

 **Also, really quick - changed the title to this story. _To Know One's Heart_ really wasn't doing it for me, and I decided I liked _Ben_ better. It seems to sum up the story a little better, and it brings a bit of mystery to the piece. I dunno. Maybe you like it, maybe you don't. Hopefully it's the former and not the latter. Or is it the latter and the former...I don't know. :)**

 **Anyway, thanks tons and tons! May the force be with you, and please drop a review on the way out. They feed my starving appetite!**


	20. Chapter Nineteen

" _Ben,"_

 _It was just the simplicity of his name that sent ripples of warmth down her spine and through her nerves. A deep pool of serenity collected in her abdomen and blossomed into her chest, as a smooth joy touched her senses and sent a rippling laughter throughout the echoing chasm of her chest._

 _The softness of his lips on her neck paralyzed her and sunk her deeper against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and bridged the gap between their bodies, draping a leg over his as his hands smoothly slid down her side to rest at her hip. His fingers pressed into the roundness of her hips, and his lips lifted into a smile as a rumbling chuckle crackled in his throat._

 _She felt a roaming sense of home here in this place, enveloped in the light of the two blazing suns hanging in the sky. As he braced against her, the world outside of their quaint, little home fell away into oblivion. She wanted nothing more to stay here in this place with him at her side, to feel his hands on her face and his breath on her skin. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair._

" _Stay with me," she cooed softly, him pressing against her closer, if possible. She felt every part of him against her come to a burning life, renewed with strength and power that she had never felt near him before. He moaned inexplicably, wrapping his arms around her body, his fingertips tracing her in every perfect way that made her flesh ripple with excited pleasure. She let her head fall back, exposing her throat, and chuckled lightly as he placed light kisses along her jugular to behind her ear._

" _I'm here," he said softly, his voice smoothly rich in her ear like a warm whisky, "I am here."_

 _And his voice fell away like a dream, into the distance of the light…_

* * *

"Be careful, Utarri," Sonika's voice sounded weak and frail through the trembling of her lips as she frantically climbed the steps ahead of him, attacking the lights of their upper apartment as the man trudged heavily up the stairs.

She fell against the wall by the light's control panel as Utarri hurried through the kitchen area, watching as his thick form carried the lax and unconscious remains of Maridian Hail through their apartment. Sonika's heart raced in her chest like a pod, her stomach flipping over to the point where she thought she would vomit. However, she put up her defenses.

Without thought she followed after Utarri to their bedroom, where he was just setting her on the bed. He gracefully laid her arms over her abdomen and stepped back for Sonika to plunge to work, where she shrugged off her cloak and threw her hands to work over the woman's tunic and cloak.

Utarri watched silently as she stripped Maridian of her clothes. Dark splotches of deep bruises welcomed her to the tanned skin of Maridian's body, as well as deep, red, jagged lines across her breasts. A sob punctured through Sonika's defenses, and she put a trembling hand to her mouth.

Looking over her shoulder, she waved Utarri out of the room, "You need to call Bartholomew," she said sterilely.

He disappeared, and she dragged her eyes back to the unconscious form of her best friend.

* * *

"This is it,"

Obi-Wan parked the speeder with a jolting stop directly out front of the shop labeled _Turros and Bagdanese_ , a quaint parts shop written in basic. He waited for Henna to dismount behind him, and she did numbly, standing in wait for him to do the same.

Obi-Wan did so, considering the force. It was bombarded with Maridian's presence in such a strength that he was unsure if she had fallen into it or not. He was fairly certain she was entirely submerged into the light, but could hardly processes his own emotions as he numbly pursued the building. Henna was beside him, cold and tight.

They had gotten the holocall fifteen minutes out of Mos Eisley after having taken Talor's speeder. A frantic and screaming Bartholomew Hail rampaged at his daughter Henna, unsure and incapacitated with grief. He had been sobbing and screaming and begging, and Obi-Wan had never in his life felt a more incapacitating love in the force – and he had never seen such an horrified expression meld into a face as he had Henna's at the very message.

However he had convinced Bartholomew to remain calm and wait, he wasn't even certain. At such a point Obi-Wan had fallen into the force and willed himself to action instead of stoic passivity. Somehow he'd managed to reassure Bartholomew that he would look after Maridian and do whatever was necessary, and had ended the holocall. Everything had happened in such a blur that he was uneven sure how he'd managed the speeder, and instead caulked it up to the grace and actions of the force.

Blocking the door with his frame, he waved his hand slightly over the controls and they decompressed, unlocking the door. Saying nothing and not rightly caring about his presence in the force or those around, he slipped into the building with Henna right behind him, like two shadows overtaking a seized city. He felt his scratchy throat constrict when Henna rushed passed him towards the stairs, clambering up them untactfully.

She came to the door, slammed her fist against them, and screamed for a woman named Sonika as loudly as she could. Obi-Wan could sense the fear and grief inside the upper apartment, hardly taking in the atmosphere of the parts shop. He stood behind Henna like a shroud, and finally the door retracted, exposing a beautiful Twi'lek woman.

She seemed hesitant at first, but upon sight of Henna, relaxed and thrust herself at the girl. They embraced harshly, squeezing tightly as if they would be forcefully separated against their will. Henna trembled savagely as the Twi'lek woman welcomed her inside, looking up from her embrace to him.

Obi-Wan met her eyes calmly, and nodded to her. She didn't need words – the force spoke for itself. "I am Ben," he said quietly, "a friend of the family's." Henna did not object as she pulled away from the woman robotically.

She nodded. "I know," she said calmly, "I am Sonika," she put a trembling hand to her chest and waved him inside, moving to the controls to close the door behind him.

He turned to face her and dropped his hood. She swallowed slowly and sighed, her lips trembling. "You've heard." It was the stoic death in her voice that alerted him to the gravity of the situation, and he felt his heart crash into his gut much like it had when he'd left Anakin on Mustafar, to burn into a rotted pile of darkened flesh.

He nodded, numb. "Yes."

She looked away and led them stiffly down the hallway of the small upstairs apartment, to the closed door. In the shadows farther down Obi-Wan noticed a larger Twi'lek male watching them like a hawk stalking prey, and he nodded recognition at him.

Obi-Wan then turned to Henna, dropped to a knee before her, and took her arms in his hands. He managed to speak hoarsely. "Let me go in first,"

She shook her head, face flashing with twisted rage and sorrow. "No! She's my sister –"

Sonika rushed to intercept the girl, and wrapped her arms around her shoulders before dropping beside Ben. Though this girl was almost a grown woman, she had reduced into a trembling, scared young thing of innocence and blind naiveté. Obi-Wan felt utterly pressed for her.

"Sweetheart," Sonika said quietly, "he is right. He should go in first."

He did not hesitate, "I will call you in as soon as things are appropriate," he nodded sharply at her, in confirmation. "Trust me, Henna. This is the best thing."

She looked between them, uncertain, and then fell against the adjoining wall, defeated. Both he and the Twi'lek woman stood, and turned to the door. She pressed the controls lightly, and before he moved into the room, she touched his arm carefully.

Her eyes were painted with grief and fear. He nodded to her, words unnecessary. She briefly held his stare for a moment and then looked away. Obi-Wan's gut tightened as if suddenly within a vice, and he felt his blood run to an eerie cold. Stepping into the room, he considered the figure on the bed a moment before moving forward, the door closing behind him with a quiet, electrical moan.

The same feeling of dreadful grief overcame him just as it had on Mustafar, and as Qui-Gon Jinn had died slowly in his arms. That same overwhelmingly hot burning in his eyes and the hammering in his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe – that someone was ripping the lungs out of his very chest through his constricted throat. Obi-Wan's skin ran cold like dead flesh, and he could feel his stomach harden into a deep and dark stone of rueful composure, as vengeful thoughts began swirling through his mind.

He stepped towards her slowly, noting that she was naked beneath the white sheet from the abdomen up, her tunic disregarded in a fitful hurry in the corner. Her hair, which he was so accustomed to seeing up, was down around her face and draped over her shoulder – matted and knotted in multiple places. She was unconscious and breathed uneasily, her chest rattling as she painfully breathed.

Obi-Wan could not imagine the bruising he felt through the force as pain swept through it like a wind. He could see the bruising on her hands and arms; made themselves at home along her throat in bright purple and black and yellow. He stopped at the bedside and studied her face, noting that there was minor scrapes and contusions and no bruising there – whoever had done this had been careful about her face, but he did notice the stained blood around her mouth. The lack of bruising concluded for him that she'd bit her tongue or her cheek severely.

Something pulled at his gut and then yanked harshly with every beat of his heart. The force around her reached out for him, though he contained himself. It was still too dangerous, especially if her attacker knew she was force-sensitive. He bit his lower hip and lifted the edge of the sheet near her ribs and peered under respectfully.

Obi-Wan didn't have to look far – the entire left side of her was masqueraded in deep black and purple bruises, some yellow splotches thrown in. He briefly checked over his shoulder as a punch of guilt ram-rodded into his lower guts, and he sighed heavily while closing his eyes. He barely met the edges of the force and could already sense that she'd cracked ribs and had extensive bruising to her pelvis. He dropped the sheet and stood numbly beside the bed, enveloped in his cloak.

His nightmare came rushing at him like a thousand pod races vying for his attention. Briefly in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan considered Bartholomew, but then brushed aside the thought. The man could not see his oldest daughter here, in this place, like this. Then the thought of Talor drifted through his mind and the conversation they'd had earlier that morning – and the hatred seething in the man's voice.

He shook away the thought. No, Talor could not have done this, Obi-Wan reasoned. He would not harm his own fiancée. Thought he was a monstrous human being with selfish precepts, he was not an animal. Absentmindedly, Obi-Wan reached for one of the frizzy spiraled curls along her face and touched it with his fingertip. A race of electricity flowed through his body. He felt his chest crackle with seething grief.

Then, he slowly moved to his knees and took her hand in his, removing it tenderly from where it was resting on her chest. Pressing it between his own, he brought it to his lips and let it hover in his own for a moment. Seeing the bruises and the evident signs of defensive resistance for only a brief moment, her hand blurred behind a thin veil of swelling tears.

He could not leave her like this, in such massive pain. Obi-Wan Kenobi suddenly forgot about the Empire and Darth Vader and Order 66; about Yoda and the Jedi and the threats hanging over his head and thriving on his secrecy. Above all things he had always clung to the Jedi Order and the Code – above all else, he was a Jedi. A Jedi sworn to protect the innocent and defend the defenseless. To provide safety and serve the galaxy. Perhaps formally the Jedi were gone, but sitting here now with this precious woman before him, every Jedi he knew remained deeply engrained in his mind and his heart.

While he had failed to protect her, he would not fail to leave her. Casting his concerns aside, he briefly considered the atmosphere around them, stretching his senses far. Nothing but overwhelming grief and sorrow, as well as a tight bonding of patient friendship. Satisfied there was no immediate danger, Obi-Wan made the decision.

"I shouldn't do this," he murmured throatily, voice crackling with sorrow, "it's against everything, Maridian," he briefly looked over his shoulder again for any sign of activity behind him. Once satisfied he was alone, he turned back to her unconscious form, and ran his thumb over her scraped knuckles. "I'm sorry for what this may do to you."

He paused a moment, searching every detail of her lovely face. Had he ever seen something so lovely? He couldn't remember anything like her – anyone like her. He swallowed shakily and pressed his lips against her hand. Suddenly he remembered Anakin's flailing body buring to oblivion beside the Mustafarian lava. How he'd left him there, another of his many mistakes.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm right here, Maridian. I will not abandon you."

Then, he bowed his head reverently, and set to his work within the force.

* * *

"And you said no one was around?"

Henna Hail watched her sister's friend fleck her eyes up from the cup of caf she'd been coddling most of the evening in the dark kitchen. Across from her sat her business-partner, Utarri, who hadn't touched his caf in an hour. Ben sat at the head of the table, Henna to the left of Sonika.

She hadn't been able to speak for the past hour since seeing Maridian resting quietly in unconscious slumber. She'd collapsed as soon as she'd made it to her sister's side, and if Ben had not been there, she did not know how she would've stayed composed. She'd broken into a sobbing mess, like an upset child. Her chest was still tight with uncertain grief and pain.

She looked up from where she'd been staring at her cup. It was full, untouched. Her eyes found Ben, who considered her a moment and gave her a weak smile of encouragement. She couldn't help but notice he was beyond belief and exhaustion; eyes rimmed with dark circles. His handsome features pulled with need for sleep and weathered work, and she didn't fail to notice he had lost weight since her first time meeting him.

He was a delightful man, she reasoned. Delightfully masculine and honorable, as well as handsome and kind. He reminded her of a warm embrace – safe, strong, and comforting. He had to have been twice – or three times – her own age, but that hadn't mattered. The first time she had seen him, she had fallen head over heels in infatuation with him. He was the freshest wisp of life Talba had ever seen.

And, next to her sister, she was the most beautiful and eligible girl in Talba for marriage. Of course she was only seventeen, but many other girls her age had married and were having children already – to a lot less honorable men, that was to be noted. So of course she'd flung herself at the Talban newcomer Ben Kenobi. It wasn't until she'd seen how he looked after her sister that day in the cantina that she had realized that he was man, and that her sister was a woman – and that she, Henna Hail, had a lot more of life to live before she could ever be so dedicated to a man like that.

Something had always told her, from their first meeting, that Maridian liked Ben in that way. It was just how defensive and uncertain she was; protective and guarding and cautious. Though she'd wonderfully feigned interest in him, a part of Henna had known. It was the way in her eyes that had betrayed her sister – the memory of all the stories and girlish confessions.

From the beginning Maridian had been challenging her and Remy to be bigger than Talba and to be in search of life larger and farther than Tatooine. She'd egged on their fantasies with dreams and fairytale stories of brave women and men – beautiful queens and the knights that rescued them. Of Jedi and the Republic, though those stories were in the times when the Republic was strong, the Jedi gallant, and the times of war. She'd promised them that someday, brave and righteous men would come to sweep them off their feet and bring the adventure and hope they'd always dreamed of.

That there would be life outside of Tatooine that was theirs for the taking.

What Henna had failed to realize, however, was the deadness of that dream in Maridian's eyes. She had, from the start, known she would never leave Talba. Maridian had known that as the eldest she would inherit their father's work and continue in the business – would marry Talor and bring success to an unsuccessful life. She'd always been striving to stay ahead and keep things moving. She'd kept their ranching business alive when everything was threatening to choke the life out of it. A part of Maridian had stopped dreaming long ago, while another part had never stopped wishing.

And as Henna considered Ben over a cold cup of caf and across the table, she could think of no better man for her sister to love than him. He was strong and promising, as well as mysterious. His eyes, while they lacked hope, did not lack life. Ben was as passionate as the very suns were bright, though his life was shrouded in mystery. But, wasn't all life a mystery until it was gone? Was life meant to be an unknown until it was done? Hadn't that been what they had longed for as children – a mysterious man of hope and passion to rescue them from the swallowing of the desert?

 _Please_ , she begged him silently, _please, rescue my sister. Please be the man she's been waiting for her entire life._

She drowned her thoughts in her caf and flicked her eyes from Ben, who hadn't seemed to notice she'd been staring at him. Sonika eyed her caf carefully before sighing and messaging the bridge of her nose – they'd been over this countless times, with still no conclusive evidence.

"No," she huffed, "it's as I said. Maridian forgot to take a washer ring with her for the carburetor and I went after her," she sighed now, eyes filling again. Henna felt her chest tighten as her heart constricted, "I passed by the alley like I do every day and saw something. It was dumb luck," she sobbed now, her hands flying to contain the sound at her lips, "Blind luck rescued her," she looked to Ben, her eyes empty as Henna watched her movements.

Ben's eyes turned radically cold. "In my experience, there's no such thing as luck, Sonika." He fell back in his chair, a rush of emotion sweeping into Henna's gut. She felt like sobbing again, and every part of her body hurt.

"There was nobody there," Sonika collected herself with rushed sniffling and took her cup from the table, back towards the kitchen. She began to make herself another cup as Ben shifted in his seat uneasily. Sonika came back and slipped back into her chair.

"I wouldn't lie, Mr. Kenobi."

He nodded and put up a hand, "I believe you." He held her stare for a moment and then looked to Henna. His expression suddenly softened as he puffed out an exaggerated breath and slapped the table lightly with a palm, motioning to her.

She blinked at him, then he looked at Utarri.

"I want to go see where you found her," he said strongly, "to see if there's anything there that will mean anything." Henna's brows rose at him, and he caught sight of her expression, flushing a mad shade of uneasy red. "For the authorities, that is."

Sonika, uneasy, shook her head. Her beautiful lekku stiffly shook as well. "I don't think that's wise," she looked carefully to Utarri. "It's –"

The strong Twi'lek put up a hand. "I will take him," he said, voice deep. "It is best." He got up, nodded to Ben, and waved him towards the corridor. Ben got up and followed.

Suddenly, with a rush of panic, she fled to Ben and grabbed his arm. He stopped and came around to her, eyes connecting almost instantly. Hers brimmed with tears as a panicking sob broke through her throat and tumbled from her lips.

"Please don't go," she said quietly, lips trembling, "please stay here, Ben. Please." Her grip tightened on his arm, tugging at the tawdy cloak still around him. The exhaustion in his eyes lightened as he pursed his lips together in a thin line and smiled tightly at her.

"I'll be right back," he said calmly, rubbing her forearm. "Do not worry. I won't go anywhere." With that, he gave her a brave and courteous smile, despite the tired worry embedded in his eyes.

She released his arm, and he quickly gave her a chaste and friendly kiss against her forehead, then turned to follow Utarri to the back room. She stood numbly for a second, watched them pass by, and nodded to Ben when he casually saluted her like a man suddenly going off to war.

And by the glint in his eye, she didn't think he was so far off.

* * *

Obi-Wan considered the indents in the sand within the back alley where Utarri had taken him, piecing together in his mind the events that had transpired.

Though Jedi were not detectives or investigators, they were observant. He had immediately noticed the three indentations and dozens of footsteps left sloppily behind in the sand, as sand was not a good preservative mold for evidence. His gut thrashed severely with the force as he desperately tried to find anything that would mean something evidentially.

The only thing that was odd was the two other imprints aside from the place Utarri had said was Maridian's. They were so far away from her initial place – and why where they even there? He'd observed the footprints and seen three that he could identify aside from Sonika, his own, and Utarri's. One was larger, roughly a size twelve; the other a man's ten, and a woman's size eight or nine. Maridian, and two male attackers.

He knelt in the sand beside the one imprint farthest from Maridian's, and dipped his hand into the cool sands. He closed his eyes and breathing inhaled slowly, pressing the force for any signs of knowledge, not caring about those around or the threats of his own concerns. After a few brief moments, he opened his eyes.

It didn't seem likely for one of the two attackers to suddenly attack the other, as there were three total sand indentations. So, from what Obi-Wan could detect, there was no rescue that came at all – the attackers left on their own. Given that Sonika hadn't really seen any signs of any sexual assault, Obi-Wan assumed whatever had happened had interrupted their attack and left them…in the sand.

Then, a vision snapped into the back of his mind: Maridian, in Talor's apartment at the room's door, terrified and in a lax control of the force. A following vision of her in the kitchen few weeks earlier beckoning the jar through the force to her. He felt a shaft of power rush through him and then anchor in his chest, rudely.

If she could force pull, then she could also force push, he reasoned. That would explain the two indents and the lack of a rescuer. A wave of confusion and dread cloaked him like a shadow, covering him in a shroud of anxious uncertainty. In her traumatic panic she had utilized the force and had pushed both the attackers away from her, where they hit the wall and fell into the sand – before they'd done anything too significant to her body.

Obi-Wan stood abruptly, let the sands fall through his fingers, and waved Utarri out of the alleyway. He had what he needed, and the force had revealed to him what had transpired. It was only a matter of hearing it from her now.

And, hoping the two attackers were too delirious to remember anything.


	21. Chapter Twenty

While licking wounds was a part of the job when it came to working with Hutts, going without answers did not.

And as Atonas and Matham gathered what was left of themselves, they'd left the alleyway, having enough of whatever had transpired with the Hail daughter. Atonas had been barely able to say his own name much less do anything else, and by the time he'd practically dragged Matham from their sandy mishap, every part of his body screamed with both confusion and raging pain.

He was not sure _what_ had happened. He could hardly remember anything. But, what the Twi'lek lackey did know, was that he was never uninformed for very long.

* * *

Sonika sat pensively, eyeing Obi-Wan from across the table as the suns began to paint morning light into the sky outside her kitchen window. Ragged, dark circles had formed under her eyes, no doubt from a mixture of exhaustion and worry, and she'd changed into comfortable clothes from her daily ones the night before.

"I still think we should bring this to the authorities," she said quietly.

Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hands down his face – given a week, he could not begin to number the reasons why that was not a good idea. Beyond exhaustion himself, he had forgotten the hard lump in his gut until it quavered and reminded him of its presence. Folding his hands on the table, he looked at her squarely, then caught sight of the man behind her across the kitchen.

He sighed heavily. "There is really only one thing we can do," he pushed back his chair, which scraped crudely across the floor, and rose, "and that is talk with Maridian, to see if she can remember anything. Otherwise, there is no use in approaching the authorities."

Which was more or less true. Obi-Wan had been a part of the authorities of the Republic for most of his adult life, and he knew that given the surrounding evidence of the scene, a case could easily be made. He hated keeping the knowledge from them, but knew it was best. This was, after all, a Jedi matter.

Or, what once would constitute as one.

 _I've waited too long,_ he mused quietly, _I knew this would happen and I procrastinated. This is entirely on my head._

He left the kitchen after that, and paused before the entry into the living area to find an exhausted Henna asleep on the sofa. She was wrapped in a blanket, arm supporting her head, and breathing deeply. Obi-Wan tenderly pressed the force and found her peacefully sleeping in rest, and decided not to press further. Instead, he made his way to the room where Maridian was still unconscious, and entered quietly.

He meandered towards the bed quietly, and sunk into the chair that Sonika had dragged into the room from the kitchen. He let his bones sag into the furniture has he numbly considered this woman laying before him – this woman, who had entirely upturned his life. In one simple day she had uprooted him entirely and changed every plan he had made with Bail Organa and Yoda about this exile.

Well, perhaps not a day. He'd fed this as the weeks had turned into a month, and teased her satiating with vague answers and mystery. Hadn't he himself told her that he was an enigma; admitted it to her face? Though, in his own defense, he was rather raggedly not himself, and entirely vulnerable – at least, emotionally. He hadn't expected to come to Tatooine and get his emotions befuddled and ruffled by a desert woman and her family. He certainly hadn't bargained for that same woman to also be force-sensitive.

It was baffling to him that one woman could inflict such…chaos. In the solitude of his life as a Jedi he had been happy and complete, never lacking and on the verge of brashly confident. As a Jedi he had been reputable and praised; honored and trusted. But as a man? What type of man was he – a laborer who passed poorly as a friend, and an even worse neighbor? For just a second, it seemed, he'd dropped his guard to regain whatever trust in humanity that he'd lost at the hands of the Empire, in a vain attempt to stable his life, and ironically it had landed in the hands of a force-sensitive woman that he was wildly attracted to in all the _wrong_ ways.

How and what had life gone so terribly wrong? He sat forward, propping his elbows on his thighs and ran his fingers through his hair. Obi-Wan puffed out an excessive breath and stared at the floor, considering the mess he had found himself in. So much for being a man of passivity, he thought.

"You look about how I feel."

His head snapped up. In his absent-mind from the present, he didn't hear the rustling of the sheets on the bed, or the fact that she'd stirred awake. Her labored breathing had steadied somewhat into a soft croak. He remembered the wounds he'd attempted to heal through the force – cracked ribs, bruised pelvis, intense bruising of the musculature of her side. Never mind the trauma that would perhaps come when her head leveled and she was clear of thought.

He gave her a lopsided grin and moped his unkempt hair from his face with his arm, "I'm afraid it's the other way around."

She gave him a soft smile. "You're a little late on the whole rescuing bid, huh?"

He chuckled lightly at her humor. "I'll remember next time."

She lifted her hand and rested it palm-up beside her on the bed, and he hesitated briefly before taking it in his own. She sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling, before shifting her eyes to look at him carefully.

"My sister is with you, isn't she?"

He didn't have to say anything, but he did. "She is."

"And my father knows?"

His throat suddenly clamped shut, but somehow managed words. "Unfortunately so."

At this he expected a regretful moan, but instead got a snort. "There goes any traveling rights I thought I may have possessed. He's never going to let me out of his sight." She gave him a hazy look, "Sonika is all right?"

"She is shaken up, but she will be fine." Obi-Wan situated himself in the chair and looked down to his booted feet, hand still tenderly in his own. A burning sense of responsibility lodged itself in his chest and reminded him with every breath of his duty. Years ago he would have never struggled with this – but he did, now.

"Maridian, I –"

"-it's okay, Ben. You don't have to feel responsible."

He blinked and snapped his head up to look at her. Did he feel responsible for this, truly? Was it even his burden to carry? These people he had never bargained for as he'd come to Tatooine, but fate had somehow shuffled them into his deck. The Jedi in him craved the responsibility of these people, but was he even a Jedi anymore with his compromised emotions and exile? He was so uncertain in these uncertain times.

 _Sure of the force be, Obi-Wan,_ he reminded himself of Yoda's words so many years before, _Do not doubt. The force is, and it will be. The force, the way of the Jedi is. And a Jedi are you not?_

Yes. He was a Jedi, down to his very core. He did not know how to be anything else. It flowed through him like the very blood that held his DNA; the very force that made him who he was. He was a Jedi without excuse – and he would not deny it any longer, Empire or not.

"Maridian," he said softly, drawing her back to look at him, "something has happened, hasn't it? You've been wanting to tell me something for a great deal of time that you have not, haven't you?"

At this, her hand suddenly went cold in his own, and he could not betray the tears that welled in her eyes as rising fear and trepidation sunk into the piercing blue depths that he had known so frequently. Suddenly the force became cloudy and cold round her, as if desperately trying to be both hidden and discovered all at once. Even as her hand rested in his carefully, he could feel her pulse begin to quicken, as her breathing became labored and uneasy with the strain of uncertain sorrow.

She nodded, looking away into the space of far off serenity and hopeful answers that he knew she would not find. He waited patiently for her courageous return, as he knew it would be courageous – he had never known her to be anything but that, even in her uncertain skepticism of him. The force around her had been strong and brave from the moment he had discovered her. He did not doubt that it would be, now.

"You did see," she whispered shakily, sucking in a sharp breath. The corners of her eyes squinted with pain as she struggled to steady her breathing, pain shooting through the force. When she opened her eyes, she leveled them at him: they were painful and discovered, in agony. "You did see that night at the door, didn't you?"

For what felt like a long moment, he said nothing, until he nodded. "Yes. I did see."

She nodded in confirmation and sniffled profusely, sucking in sharp and uneven breaths as she laid on the bed. Her spirit was broken and compromised now – not all force-sensitive's were thrilled upon discovery, as he'd seen from experience. But very rarely were they in agony and trepidation as this woman was. Obi-Wan felt utterly and completely helpless as her now trembling form rested before him, and the moment seized every speck of air that he could force into his lungs. His blood was racing hot and also steadily cold all at once in his body.

"I…I've been different my entire life," she whispered quietly, looking away. She draped her other arm over her forehead and fluttered her eyes closed, taking in slow inhales of air through the nose.

He rubbed his beard in contemplation, then squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Does anyone else know about this, Maridian?"

She looked back at him and nodded, fluttering her eyes closed again. On an exhale she replied, "Yes. My father."

Of course he had known, Obi-Wan reasoned. He'd raised her since birth – parents usually were aware of their children's capabilities when they were very young. He himself had been only six months when he had been active in the force, so he assumed Maridian was no older than that when her father had known. But, on Tatooine, with no way to bring her to Coruscant, how was a man to know what to do? He'd simply raised his daughter throughout the years, perhaps hoping that someday a Jedi would come and take her away; praying that another did not.

The air in the room suddenly was heavy and thick, like a blanket wet with rain. He could feel the tension travel into his chest and thicken the walls of his heart, until it threatened to explode in his very chest. The organ beat in a pace unheard of and which was probably unhealthy, but he could in no way think of a way to slow it. He was having all he could do to breathe steadily and be the pillar of steady strength and comfort that this woman needed.

He finally replied to her, softly, almost in a breath. "I can help you, Maridian," this drew her eyes back to his, and he suddenly felt lost when she held his full attention and threatened to undo every known thing about himself that he knew, "I have seen this before, and I know how to help you."

Her brow wrinkled. "How do you -?"

He sighed, taking her hand in both of his, patting it sympathetically. "I…I also have this ability," he said quietly, letting his eyes fall away from her intense and confused stare. He held the thought in the air momentarily, before returning to it.

"…Maridian, you are have abilities that come from the force," he said in a whisper, then looked back at her. " You are 'force-sensitive'."

Her mouth had already dropped open moments before, eyes suddenly glazed with a sense of fleeting composure. Her body began to tremble profusely now, and her breathing began excessively haggard to the point that he was worried. Getting out of his chair, he situated himself on his knees beside her, and in an absent mind, he cupped his palm along her cheek.

At this she went rigid, staring at him as if he had just materialized. "Do not worry, Maridian. I will help you through this," he jutted his head slightly to the side to contemplate the fear in her eyes, and gave her a soft upturn of his lips. "I promise you, I will help you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he waved a hand in front of her eyes briefly.

"But for now, you must rest. And rest easy."

And at the simple wave of a hand, her eyes closed and she found rest in the quiet peace of sleep.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Early morning darkness was deep when Sonika stirred Henna Hail awake in Sonika Turros' living area. The girl stirred lightly, her eyes flittering in the dark, until she propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed at her eyes with a free hand. A yawn escaped her, which she tried to capture with a hand to her mouth. Exhaustion pulled at her features roughly.

"Henna," her voice was soft.

Behind her, Ben and Utarri gently carried Maridian's still unconscious form through the dark kitchen quietly. Brow dropping into a frown, Henna looked to Sonika and sat up, bringing her legs up under her and wrapping her cloak around her arm securely. She tried to piece together with shifting gazes between them, but Sonika grabbed her hands and gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

"What's going on? Where are they -?"

Sonika put a finger to her lips to shush her. Enveloped in an ashen colored cloak, the Twi'lek grabbed her wrist and gently waved her from the sofa, towards the door. As they passed the table, she grabbed what Henna recognized as Maridian's satchel and quickly pressed it into her hands. Still half asleep, Henna was hardly aware of what was going on as her sister's friend led her swiftly down the stairs.

Once outside, the chilly Tatooine pierced through her light tunic and forced Henna into her cloak. Guided by her cloaked friend, they moved around the corner of the store into the alleyway, where her father's two speeders were parked in the darkness, unnoticed. She stopped and watched Utarri hold her sister like a sleeping bride as Ben mounted their speeder.

Sonika led her forward, and she watched as Ben slid backwards on the seat of the speeder and gestured for Utarri to bring Maridian to him. Together, they situated her limp frame before him, and Sonika pulled her sister's cloak up over her head to help with wind-flow. The limp form of her sister slumped against Ben, and if she would not have known better, it would have almost been a romantic picture.

Unfortunately, she knew better, and came beside Ben on the throttle side of the bike. As he checked controls and situated himself, her double-took her presence and finally lifted his eyes from his work to catch her attention. He dropped a gloved hand from the bike's handle-bar and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

As if speaking volumes without having said a word, she nodded numbly and moved away from him to the bike parked behind his. She swung herself on like she'd been doing it forever. Situating her cloak's hood, Sonika and Utarri ran through a quiet check with her before she nodded her understanding. Sonika lovingly wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed what would've been her hair if her hood had been down, and rubbed her back reassuringly.

"Be safe, cutie," Sonika whispered, "everything's going to be fine."

* * *

A resonating pound had seized Maridian's skull like invading soldiers, rushing pain down her neck and into her spine as if she'd become a pod-racing track. Her body was hot with inflamed heat and an aching, deep pain that echoed like shots off a cavern wall, only to find nothing to reverberate against. It seemed to replay through her nerves like a broken recording.

Her vision was hazy with both exhaustion and pain, and she put a shaking hand to her forehead to try and stable the swaying world. She felt _awful_. Her abdomen felt like whipped and raw meat, as if it had been trampled and then processed like meat, and her stomach quavered uneasily with nausea and shooting jabs of unfriendly pain. The bones of her body ached deeply as if they'd been injected with deep and thick poison, which was eating away her marrow and resolve like rot.

The air in the room was heavy and hot, as it usually was on Tatooine, but as her room was underground, she could not tell what time of day it was. Maridian tried to push herself up on her arms, but found that the action resulted in shrieking warnings of pain through her body, that bounced off her spine and pierced all the way down her feet. She collapsed back onto the bed she'd been sleeping in, clothed in a sheen coat of exhausted sweat.

She took a few minutes to gather herself, and closed her eyes. She focused her breathing and tried to find the warmth of the quiet aloneness around her – she had often done this before, seeking that quiet place where she was alone with herself and her soul, and she embraced the waft of welcoming warmth and light that washed over her. For a brief moment she lingered in its arms, but fearing unconsciousness, she opened her eyes and found her vision had improved enough to reassure her of her surroundings.

It was she and Henna's room, and for a moment, her mind was blank for answers. Unaware of how she'd gotten here or what had led to the massive pain throughout her body, she furrowed her brow and took a series of deep, willful breathes – only to find that striking pain stabbed at her ribs and hips, and pounded a headache through her temple. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pushed herself up while simultaneously swinging her legs over the side of her bed.

Jolting pain pummeled her abdomen, and she cupped her injured side with a protective hand, painfully oblivious and frightened as to what had happened. Taking breathes that were only deep enough not to cause pain, she took in the surroundings of her room and looked down at the floor – oddly surprised, she found herself in lounging clothes, barefooted.

Actually, she was in _clean_ clothes – cream cotton pants, a faded white tunic shirt, and when she lifted the hem, she found her abdomen wrapped securely with bandages and stained with a deep, almost purple, splotch. Confused, she dared to stand, and the world suddenly began to spin again.

The ground began to savagely attack when she suddenly felt a strong and warm presence, one that was familiar and comforting. Two gentle hands grabbed hold of her elbow and stabilized her, and the sweet smell of lavender alerted her to the bouncing blonde curls that could only belong to Henna – Henna, her sister. She gave her sister a befuddled stare.

"It's alright," she said softly, "you're home." When she guided Maridian back to sit, she shook her head and batted her sister's hand away, painfully aware of her desire to stand and _know._ Shooing her sister's hand away, Henna hovered beside her as Maridian turned to face her.

She opened her mouth to speak, "What happen-?" but instead found her throat constricted and sore; voice nothing more than a scraggly croak that was both forced and quiet. Furrowing her brow, she reached up to touch her throat but retracted her hand suddenly when pain shot through the surface of her skin.

Henna gave her a painfully sympathetic look. "A bruise," she said quietly, "don't try and speak. Not until you've had some tea." Nodding in compliance, she allowed her sister to guide her out of the room and up the two short steps until they were in the corridor.

Swaying slightly in a gait that could only belong to a hazy-minded individual, she walked closely to the wall of the corridor, Henna at her side. Every step was painful agony. She tried to pull a straight face, but she knew from the pulling of her muscles that she was wincing.

The walk took forever, but when they came to the sunken in living area, it felt as if she'd just sprouted wings to fly. Moving past it, they came hobbling to the kitchen, Maridian's heavy and blurry head unaware of the soft whisperings from within.

When they came to the foyer entry of the kitchen, she pulled up sharply, which resonated a stabbing pain through her body again. Her eyes, cemented on the scene before her, did not deceive her as a painful constriction came to seize whatever life was roaring through her chest – her lungs suddenly became stale, the air evaporating from her system with a sharp gasp. Her heart finally kicked into overdrive and began to throb severely against her painful ribcage. Somehow, she oddly became aware of her diaphragm.

There in her kitchen was Ben Kenobi, seated across from her father, talking over steaming cups of tea while a batch bubbled to a brew on the stove. Remy was seated beside her father, talking casually, eyes illuminated with the presence of their guest. The table was clear of any dishes, which didn't indicate a meal, only chat and tea. The house smelled terrifically of berries, tea leaves, and mint.

Her presence was recognized almost instantly, as Ben found her form in the entry with Henna at her side. There was a sharp twinkle in his eyes before they darkened with concern, him pushing out his chair and rising sharply to intercept her in four long strides. Dumbfounded by his presence, Henna nodded to him and moved away from her towards the stove as he smiled warmly at her. A familiar light cascaded into his eyes, and he suddenly looked ten years younger in the light of her kitchen.

"You shouldn't be up," he said calmly, his accented voice like warmth on her skin. She stared at him stupidly, as if he would vanish any moment – where had he come from? How had he gotten here? The thoughts circled her brain like birds hovering over prey.

"Sit," he ordered politely, gently guiding her to the chair closest to them. He pulled it out, helped her sit, and then she was suddenly overwhelmed by Henna's presence with tea at her other side as Ben took the empty chair to her left.

As if making small talk, he added, "The bruising on your neck has transgressed into the healing stages," he gestured to her neck area with a hovering finger, then jerked his head to remove the unkempt hair from his eyes. She immediately noticed his beard was frazzled and in need of management, as were the dark circles under his eyes. "I would say they should be healed in a few more days."

Days? "Don't –" she coughed at the scruffy thickness of her own words, and Henna gestured to the tea. She took a gentle mouthful and let the steaming liquid pave a trail down her throat, which put her somewhat at ease. She took another drink and then coughed roughly.

"You shouldn't try to speak," Henna added assertively, "not until –"

"-do any of you want to tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess in twenty questions or something?" She did not care about the interruption, instead in search of answers. She knew almost immediately that something was serious when her father hung his head and sighed, slapping his hands casually on top of the table.

He looked up at Henna, then ruffled Remy's hair. "You two go outside," he gestured to the door. As the tension built in the moments between response, finally Henna nodded and led Remy to the door.

They vanished quietly outside. "Maridian," her father began.

She gulped sorely, cupping her hands around her tea. Her eyes found the steaming liquid within and became lost only briefly before she flicked them up to look at her father. "Something happened to me, didn't it?"

There was quiet for a few beats until Ben finally spoke. "Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head slightly, sighing before messaging the bridge of her nose. "Not really," she rubbed her temple and sighed deeply, letting her finger trace the rim of the cup as the steam warmed her sore joints. Dull throbbing ran through her body in rhythm with her heartbeat.

They were quiet a long time before she slapped the table-top and rolled a look at Ben in figurative annoyance. "But I do remember some things," she added assuringly, "Like the fact that I'm a force-sensitive, Ben? What does that mean?"

The solemn look on her father's face said it all as he dropped his eyes into his wringing hands. He went white with disappointing reluctance, and when Ben nodded stiffly and looked down to his own hands on the table, she knew she had not imagined his words. They rang through her head like echoing bells and formed a solid lump within her chest.

He sighed and ran a hand raggedly down his face and through his hair. "It is complicated, I'm afraid," he puffed out a breath and looked to her father, "especially now with the rise of the new Empire. It is not safe to be a force-sensitive anymore," he looked at her seriously, "or to know anyone force-sensitive, for that matter."

Her father wagged a finger at him, "Which I why I've always –"

She had gotten lost in staring at the swirling steam of her tea, memories of childhood rushing back into her pounding head. She closed her eyes and inhaled the strong smell of leaves and fruit to calm her, ruminating on her own thoughts. She dipped her head slightly and exhaled through her nose, a shifting feeling rushing through her blood – as if it had been sparked with power.

Then her eyes opened and she raised her head, staring numbly at the wall. So many questions faded into answers and then back to more questions as she stared blankly into space. Maridian began to feel slightly ill, but then suppressed the motion with more thoughts of childhood memories now long behind her – now everything seemed to make sense as the words came piling to fill the cracks desperately in her mind: force-sensitive.

Force-sensitive. _Jedi._

Her father and Ben were talking about the new and terrifying Empire, that she had no concept nor concern with, until she blurted out the first statement that formed words on her mouth. "I could've been a Jedi, couldn't I?"

This silenced the air with slapping realization, and her father fell back in stunned silence in his floating chair, Ben staring at her solidly with recollection and passing memories that betrayed his mysterious aura. He _knew_ the Jedi, and he knew about being force-sensitive; it was written clearly on his face.

She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "I could've been a Jedi," she repeated, the quiet shakiness in her voice increasing as her breathing became shallower and quicker, causing pain to erupt across her abdomen. She didn't care, instead heaved in breathes to fill the gaping hole in her lungs.

He nodded slowly, then looked away to scratch the back of his neck. "I'm afraid you could have been," he answered quietly, "in different times, you may have been quite a powerful Jedi."

A sob escaped her, then she looked to her father. "So all this time I could have been a Jedi, and instead you kept me _here?_ " Her voice broke and she slapped the table sharply, then scraped her chair back and stood abruptly. "You kept me here to slave the ranch and scrape by my entire life when I could have been a Jedi!" Her voice got louder and she pointed an accusing finger at him, "What have you done to me? You told me you never _knew_ what I – what _this_ – was!" She flung her hands out palms up to stress her point.

"All this time I've been struggling to find out what is wrong with me when you knew the entire time," her voice hovered lightly in disgusted and vengeful awe.

This startled Ben, and he stood smoothly to intercept her. "Maridian," he reached out for her, "this is a difficult thing. You cannot –"

"Do _not_ tell me what I can and cannot," she snarled at him, lunging back and almost tripping due to her lightheadedness. Her temper flared again, pulse rocketing through her so strongly she was sure they could see it through the vein in her neck and temple. "My whole life I have had this and wondered what was wrong with me – that it was a bad thing…" she sobbed now, "…when all along I could've been a Jedi! I could've been a Jedi and my family," she shook her head at her father, "my family could have been taken care of by the Jedi. The accident never would have happened. Mama never would've –"

" That's enough, Maridian!"

She stopped mid-speech when her father's hand met the table top with a loud and commanding pound. She jumped in place, nerves jolting with sudden pain, eyes cementing on the man. He had a flash of anger that ran through his eyes, and when she looked to Ben, the man had reverently bowed his head in listening passivity.

"Father, I –" she fumbled for a recovery.

He threw up a hand to silence her. "Now you listen to me, Maridian," he pointed a finger at Ben, "regardless what could have happened in the past or not, you are what you are. You must live with that. _We,"_ he gestured between the three of them, "must live with that. I know I should've told you, but I…I didn't know how."

She stood, stunned solid, as his eyes drifted to the table. He began to run his hands raggedly through the air, looking for words, as the tension in the room grew to smothering amounts. Maridian could hardly hear anything aside from her own heart pounding like a brass drum against her chest cavity.

"Your mother was a brilliant woman," her father said quietly, then let his head fall into his hands as his elbows braced against the table top supportively, "she would've known how to do this."

An odd statement, but one that brought tears to her eyes. She stared, like a stone, at him. Her stomach broiled with heat and unanswered questions, and she suddenly felt lightheaded as a waft of something rushed into her soul – something strong enough to knock her off her feet. She staggered backwards, before Ben was at her side to support her.

"You felt that?" He asked speculatively.

She nodded, giving him a hard and somewhat peeved stare. "Yes. That was you?"

He helped her stabilize and then stroked his beard before turning to face her father. She noticed immediately the pull of the muscles in his shoulders beneath his tunic, but also that he had lost a considerable amount of weight since she had first met him. Ben was almost entirely tanned by the suns, as well, and had adjusted to the heat well – he was hardly sweating, unlike herself.

"She is more advanced than I thought," he addressed her father, "I've never seen someone so sensitive without proper training." This confused her and she crossed her arms delicately over her chest to mind the bruises, until she furrowed her brow at him and cocked a hip before gesturing at him with a hand.

"What do you mean you've 'never seen'? What exactly did you do off of Tatooine?" Then she added flippantly, "What – were you a Jedi or something?"

The way he paused and stopped to look at her over her shoulder was enough answer, and she felt her stomach rock her ankles out form underneath of her. She froze, caught his stare only momentarily, and noticed the immense void now overtaken in his eyes. There was pain etched in the fine, hardly noticeable lines of his face – light that was suddenly shadowed. Experience that grew in him like a planted seed.

He looked away from her back to her father. "What is important now is that Maridian learns how to control her ability. With the Empire on the rise it is beyond dangerous to have abilities within the force," his voice trailed off, "just having artifacts that belong to Jedi – or knowing of them - is likely to get an individual executed."

Her father nodded understanding. "I've heard of this, on the frequencies. Everything that has happened to the Jedi and the Republic – it has crumbled. Not many survived the…executions." He seemed to tread on thin ground with careful word selections, and Maridian felt the atmosphere shift to a tense burden. Her throat became hot with unspoken questions; chest heavy with regrets.

Ben nodded. "Exactly. Which is why I propose that I begin to mentor Maridian immediately. I have experience within the force and…have learned much," he leaned over the table and braced himself over it, knuckles white against the table as they supported his weight, "I can help her control these outbursts and hide her sensitivity. At least until she can do so on her own, safely."

Maridian, suddenly as if possessed by some unknown force, bolted into the conversation and moved up beside him, arms crossed over her chest. Wary to say much, she brushed aside one of her curls and quietly posed the next questions. "And what of Remy and Henna? Are they…?"

Ben curtly shook his head. "Not that I can sense, no."

Her father nodded in understanding, "I agree with you, Ben. Maridian has been having episodes since she was a child. And in times like these," he lifted his gaze to give her a quaint and loving smile, "one can never be too careful. What do you propose?"

He pushed himself off the table, shifted his weight and leaned back slightly, arms crossed over his chest. "I have acquired enough money to purchase the hovel you spoke of before," he eyed her carefully, up and down, "that is quiet enough and far enough out of the way to be inconspicuous. We can conduct lessons there, out of eyesight and earshot."

Her brows rose. "Isn't it a mess? Hardly livable," she eyed her father, "and you don't expect me to stay…"

"No, of course not," he interjected swiftly, "it is not far to travel by speeder. You will come early and leave before the sun – suns, set." He corrected himself and a slight burst of color erupted on his cheeks beneath his beard.

Her father nodded continuously, rubbing his chin, and she watched for any signs of disagreement. There were none. "Yes. Yes," he wagged a finger, and navigated the chair away from the table to face Ben full-on. His eyes sparked with newfound appreciation and light. "A fine, fine plan. It will work."

Ben then eyed her, a small lift of his lips evident. "It has to. For all our sakes."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

After their lengthily discussion, Maridian was ill at ease to be forced back into bed for rest. Which, inevitably she needed, because she was consistently lightheaded and swayed as if she had never learned to stand in the first place. Much protest and resistance had quelled before she'd made it back to her room, exhausted and in deep pain. And, subsequently, that's how her existence progressed throughout the coming days: exhausted, and deeply painful. It more often than not robbed her of sleep, as well as time.

The pain was not the only foe that accompanied her throughout her recovery. Questions, as well as an aching for answers, ravaged her inside's as much as healing did. She could do nothing more than sit in bed and wonder about her friend, Ben Kenobi, and his previous life; what a force-sensitive was truly, and what had happened that dreadful night in the alleyway. All clarity had been robbed from her mind like a desperate thief.

Maridian had heard of Jedi across the galaxy and their pursuit of the force and what it meant to be "force-sensitive". She had known it was something truly wonderful and powerful, because not all people were allowed to become Jedi – and not all people saved the galaxy, either. These men and women and creatures were powers of the light; pure and heroic and strong. Their power rested in their pursuit of light and goodness, as well as purity and peace – they were warriors only when necessary, and defendants when the moments arose. Her father and others in Talba had spoken of them before and marveled in their stories – these people who used a mythical ability were saviors. Or at least, in legend.

She had never lived to see one, but she had known they were good people. They seemed to pursue a higher order; a higher way of living life instead of just walking through it. They pursued goodness – raw and pure truth at the cost of pleasure and selfishness. They were servants, humble in heart and deed, and bowed graciously to duty and turned from pride. They were willing, and ready – rescuers and people of honor.

Maridian had known from the stories that these were people of power and heroic prowess – not to be ignored, or underestimated. She'd been longing for the day they'd come and rescue _her_ and make everything right – to come and take her and her family away from the badness in this desert. As a child she'd longed for the Jedi, and as a woman she'd only just prayed for their arrival. However, none had come. No Jedi, no answers, no hope.

Just agony. And hardship.

She thought about Ben and wondered if he'd been a Jedi. She was unable to be positively sure, as she was about many things regarding Ben Kenobi: just unsure, but hopelessly interested. The way he'd looked at her had made her question her very soul when she'd asked him about what he'd done off of Tatooine – and it had made her question every piece of knowledge she thought she'd known. Everything was spiraled into a questioning state of limbo now that her secret was out.

It changed nothing. Actually, it complicated everything. Regardless of her ability or not, she still owed much to Jabba the Hutt and was still in an arranged marriage with Talor – her father was still paralyzed and she was still diseased. Her sisters would still know hunger and work, and their business was still underwater. This changed nothing, other than the fact that she would have to be more careful and work harder to be who she was. As if she didn't work hard enough in the first place, she'd have to double time it to keep her true colors invisible to the galaxy's eyes, as well as remain under the radar of the vengeful Empire. She was at the mercy of her own doubts, and Ben Kenobi; for whom she was hopelessly attracted to and even more hopelessly confused by.

However, she had decided that night after Henna had seen to her wrappings that she would work as equally hard at this as everything else: to pursue it with the utmost vigor and enthusiasm. Regardless of what this did or did not make her, she was still herself – still plagued with an intriguing ability with so many unknowns. There was great potential bubbling inside of her; just waiting to explode, and she was genuinely curious. If she could have been a Jedi, then she was as strong and as powerful as she had always feared. It was just that now, she was not fearful of herself – instead, expectantly hopeful and confident.

It was the third morning of her debilitation when she was able to rise without blinding pain shooting into her brain and robbing her of balance. She slowly made her way out of her room and down the corridor, to find the house quiet with inactivity, her father scrawling on a pad in the corner by his desk. Her sisters were assumingly outside, tending to chores.

She stopped in the middle of the living area, waiting for her father to notice her presence. Maridian took the moment to study his drained and tired looking features, noting the growing amount of grey hair and lines on his already weathered face. His condition had taken a toll on his body, as well as him emotions – and in the years following as she saw to the business, the guilt also had gotten to him too. Now, he just looked plain exhausted and unsure and scared: things she had seen in him only briefly now had become ordinary.

He finally noticed her when she moved slightly. "You're awake, my love," he said tenderly, "how are you doing?"

She shrugged a shoulder as he moved away from the rickety desk. "Okay. Still tired, and bruised." She rubbed her arm and walked up the two short steps of the sunken in living area to him, where he extended a hand and looked up into her face with a soft smile.

"You are looking much better," he gestured to her neck, "the bruising has changed to healing colors, like Ben said."

She nodded. "Is he still here?"

He rolled his eyes lightly. "Yes, and working very diligently on the addition to the stalls," he navigated the chair away from her and waved her towards the kitchen, "I haven't been able to get the man away from work since he brought you home. He is insistent, as well as stubborn."

She smiled softly and seated herself at the table, while her father prepared herbal tea. The smell wafted through her senses and struck her in every area that still ached with pain. Ben had been staying in the barn since he had brought her home three days ago, and in turn had underhandedly taken over the responsibility of the farm, to her surprise. Granted, he had hardly known anything the first day, but Henna and Remy were good teachers – and fast to hand out orders and directions. Maridian was greatful for his diligence and willingness.

But, today was the christening of the Henna's performance career at Thor's cantina, which called for harder work and harder efforts. Everything would have to be done well before the evening to allow for proper preparation time and travel back into Talba. It would be good for her, Maridian theorized, to get out of the house and into the sunlight to breathe fresh air in Talba.

Her thoughts almost instantly drifted to Talor, and she looked up at her busying father. She remembered their conversation about Talor and Ben, as well as her father's insights and what they stood to reason, especially with the development of her ability and the change of events. Her insides ached just thinking about it in ways that were both terrifying and outstanding – she was utterly scared and also giddy with excited bliss.

As if on cue, her father read her mind. "I have made my decision about Talor," he said quietly.

Her head popped up as if she'd been punched. "What? There is no decision to be made,"

He put up a hand and swiveled his chair, facing her with a cup of tea at hand. He stared at her for a good few moments until he hovered over and set the tea before her carefully. Then, he cupped her cheek with his hand and smiled. "There's always a decision, Maridian. And I have made mine regarding your marriage: you are not going to marry Talor."

Panic struck her like a plague and she was certain all the color had dropped from her face and into the floor. She swallowed. As good as the news was and as relieving as it stood to present, it was unfeasible. All her best laid plans suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces – and she envisioned Jabba's prison of prostitutes and corpses all at once.

She stuttered. "P-Papa –"

He threw up a hand. "Shush, child. I've decided already that I cannot ask you to fix the problems I've created," he sighed and looked away, letting his hand fall back to his chair before he looked back to her. "We both know I should've sold the business years ago to the Clan."

It had been so. Years before she'd been of consented age, the Hutt Clan had sent purchasers to the outstanding ranches and other land-owners in the areas around Talba, Mos Eisley, Anchorhead, and Bestine to buy up land for government use. Many of the locals had sold out and moved either offworld or into more civilized areas with their new loads of wealth – but, many had also decided to stay in the desert and continue on with their heritage. Her father had been one of them.

She sighed and shook her head. "The choice was yours. It was a good one."

"A good one?" He questioned, "A man enslaving his family to work in the desert is not well and good – and neither is a man arranging a marriage to make his own way." He ran a hand down his face. "It was a mistake of mine, and I intent to correct it." He then sharply looked at her. "I cannot sit by and watch you marry a man you do not love and live miserably as a wife. It's not what you want."

Her heart hammered. "I don't know what I want," she said darkly.

He smiled at her. "Not right now, maybe. But you will." He gestured to the tea cup and slapped the table to distract her from the tears welling in his eyes. His face was drained of color and instead was placed with guilty and displeased wrinkles that robbed the innocent joy from his face.

"Give yourself time, Maridian," he said quietly, "and you will know."

* * *

Talor smacked the empty shot glass back on the counter of the _Crossing Point's_ bar, pushing the glass with his hands towards the Twi'lek bartender that looked as if she was having a hard enough time already without his incessant nagging. He didn't pay her mind, instead gestured for her to fill it again.

She did so, without word.

He had been living like a rich dying man since he had confirmed word with Bartholomew Hail about his engagement to Maridian. Bound by tradition to keep the occasion quiet until they had time for a proper announcement, he'd been celebrating most of the week alone and internally; counting the days until he could pay off Jabba and be rid of Atonas and Matham for good.

He hadn't seen the lackey's since they'd been called back to Mos Eisley for whatever reason. He himself had been pretty busy since he'd ushered Ben Kenobi away with a wash of credits; disposing him like a used and recyclable mop. Talor had been all over the Talban sands and then some in efforts to maintain fencing and schmooze new customers, as well as inventory the livery and see to livestock in preparation for the breeding season. His first day with Ben gone had felt like an utter eternity, but he'd been glad to do the work himself. He was finally rid of Kenobi, and there was no better feeling. He'd never really liked the man, and had only fooled himself into kindness.

As his head was hazy with drink and his senses aloof in the bar's night-life clamor, he briefly considered that he hadn't seen Maridian or any member of the Hail clan in days. It wasn't unusual, given this time of the bantha season, and he'd known of their plans to expand their stalls for some time; they'd have to be busy. So, he'd opted to leave them alone, and instead work for himself and drink for two others while at it. He was, after all, celebrating his upcoming marriage.

And perhaps a bit of him was celebrating his upcoming wealth, as well.

* * *

"You look so beautiful, Henna!"

As Maridian finished the last touches of her sister's hair, she could not help but echo the commending praises of her youngest sister. The youngest Hail sat on the edge of Henna's bed, dressed in her best dress; hair pulled into a half braid and ribbons that rivaled the swirling sands themselves.

The dress Maridian had finished weeks earlier fit perfectly – the measurements she'd taken of her sister had been precise. The dress fit like a tailored glove and accentuated appropriately all the features a blossoming young woman had to show: her sister's slender hour-glass figure was well rounded out and hardly invisible. The light yellow had accented her hair and eyes just as Maridian had envisioned in Issik's store with Ben.

And now, with her hair braided back along the temples and curled down along her shoulders, she looked like a radiant Tatooine sunset and sunlight all at once. Decorated in light and natural make ups and colors, her eyes sparkled like gems of unknown price and matchless worth. Her face was radiating with a joyful bliss that Maridian would have killed a thousand warriors for. Her own heart thudded strongly against her sore ribs as a smile pulled at her lips burningly.

Henna looked up at her and smiled. Maridian touched her shoulder tenderly. "You look brilliant, Henna. Stunningly brilliant."

The girl looked back into the glass slate and nodded slightly to herself. "I guess so," she confirmed quietly, then looked back up at her and beamed. "I do. Because of you."

And without warning, she stood swiftly and latched herself to her older sister in a threatening hug that flared Maridian's bruised and tender body. It took her a moment to register her breathing before she wrapped Henna in a hug and squeezed her gently. Tears threatened her own eyes briefly before she pulled back from her sister and playfully tweaked her nose.

"You're welcome," she breathed with a smile.

Henna dipped her head and hugged her again. "Thank you. For everything." Her hug got tighter, before she quickly pressed a chaste kiss to Maridian's cheek and moved towards the exit of their bedroom, Remy hot on her heels. They left in a swish of dresses and hair, the door sliding closed behind them quietly.

It was another fifteen minutes before Maridian emerged, dressed. Her dress was simple crepe cotton, complete with leather laces in the front and long draping sleeves, matched appropriately with good evening slippers. Still too tender to raise her hands to work on her hair, she'd left it down and parted deep to the left.

As she deposited from her room, she was pleasantly surprised to find her family gathered at the door, ready to leave. Her father was dressed magnificently in burgundy breeches and a black tunic; hair slicked to the side and freshly shaven. He rivaled extravagance as he playfully kissed Remy's hand before situating her cloak around her shoulders.

Maridian carefully moved by them to intercept her cloak from Henna, who scanned her up and down a quick moment before smiling brightly. Everything in her eyes hinted at mischief – the kind that lead to only trouble and trouble alone. She eyed her younger sister carefully before slipping into her cloak and situating her hair beneath her hood. She was busy with her sleeve when Henna whipped around, slapped the door's control panel, and giggled madly with excitement.

There, appearing from the Tatooine evening in her doorway before her family was Ben Kenobi – groomed, pressed, and sorely out of place. Maridian barely had time to register him before her breathing became shallow and unpracticed; heart rivaling the very spinning of the world. He was quiet and still as he stood in the doorway in his light colored breeches and tunic – and much to her dismay, he seemed incapable of looking past her and to her awaiting family. She hardly recognized him beneath his burnt sienna cloak. His hair was slicked back, beard evenly trimmed.

"Ben," she dared to recognize him by name, hoping her voice didn't sound as surprised as she thought it would. She stepped aside swiftly before he could focus on the explosion of color on her cheeks that threatened hopeless embarrassment. "I hardly recognize you."

He chuckled and stepped off the last step into the home. As he moved to intercept Henna and Remy, he smiled at her softly. She couldn't help but notice that his eyes lingered briefly in a scan up and down. "I could say the same about you too," he turned to greet Henna with a polite nod, only to give a quick and pleasant wink and smile to Remy, "but, it is a very rare occasion where beautiful things remain indistinguishable."

She blinked at him, dumbfounded perhaps not only by his appearance, but sudden burst of confidence. As if he'd been waiting to be this Ben for quite some time but had never been presented the opportunity – almost as if he'd been born into this clean, groomed, put-together package of a man instead of the desert wanderer she'd known him as.

At this, Henna smiled at him and gestured towards the door. "Ben," she inserted quickly, "please – come outside and help me with the speeder, would you?"

He nodded, sensing the uneasy tension. Maridian closed her eyes and silently thanked the force, hardly remembering if it was to be thanked or not. She looked away from him sullenly, suddenly overcome with heated emotion and embarrassment.

"Of course. Lead the way," came his smooth response.

As he and her two sisters left into the evening to see to the speeder, her father jabbed an encouraging elbow into her side and snickered. "I told you that you would know what you wanted, in time."

"No one said anything about wanting."

His laugh was robust when he slapped the doors controls, "No one needed to say anything. Not with the look that was once your face."

She countered confidently, "I wasn't the only one looking, thank you very much."

And he said nothing more, only continued to laugh as she helped his hoverchair up the stairs.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

The quiet rumbling of the speeder died beneath Maridian once Ben cut the engine just outside the _Crossing Point._ Remy and Henna piled out of the family's speeder quickly in a mirage of hair, dresses, and cloaks, Ben swinging out momentarily after. He offered her a hand out of the speeder, which she took with a much steadier grip than she had thought possible.

They helped her father from the back of the speeder, and once Ben had seen to its safe stay in the shadows alongside the cantina's back wall, they entered the establishment. It was rowdy, Saturday night in full fledging force as patrons staggered about; deep into drinks and probing jibes already. The myriad of species was almost staggering to even Maridian, who felt a rush of energy, until Remy pressed against her side and slipped her hand beneath her cloak to fish for her sister's.

She squeezed it tightly, winked at her sister, and ushered them towards the kitchen, where she knew Thor would let them use the back room. Nodding silently to Ben and her father, she filtered through the waves of people, her sisters at hand. Probing glances came their way, but Maridian ignored them.

It took an hour for the live band to prepare, and Henna was hardly stage-frightened, instead a bouncing pillar of strength and confidence. Her golden hair stuck out sorely in the dank darkness of the cantina, where men and others alike paused to take her form as she was deposited from the kitchen – uncloaked, and smiling brightly. Maridian and Remy followed her out quietly.

Before she could move into the waves of people, Ben and her father stopped her. Her father was beaming with a radiant joy Maridian had forgotten he possessed as her sister dipped to receive a kiss to the cheek. He patted her hand, and Maridian noticed his eyes were wet with aspiring tears.

"You are magnificent, my sweet girl. I am so proud of you." Their father then kissed her hand and patted it reassuringly.

Maridian squeezed Remy's shoulders as she stood in front of her, feeling slightly renewed despite her weakened and recovering condition, and smiled lovingly at her sister. Remy pulsated with joy and was antsy before her, eager to see the performance. Henna whirled around, her blonde locks bouncing down her back, and found Ben slightly to her right.

He looked pleasantly expectant, and also lightly amused at the family unit before him, Maridian noticed. However, she could hardly get past the fact that he was so attractively handsome that it was rattling her core in ways it never had been before around him – he looked so different; distinguished, as if this side of him had never existed. His quiet authority and exuding strength was enough to send her almost whirling in a swoon, which she found strangely satisfying but also horrific. Her heart was hammering again, and it took some focus to keep her breathing normal.

Henna smiled at him, tipping her head to the side. "Thank you for being here, Ben," she said brightly, "It means a lot."

He dipped his head and chuckled, the corner of his mouth lifting beneath his beard. "Of course," he diverted his eyes briefly in a fleck to Maridian, who looked away, hoping the dim lights would hide her expectant blush, "I am honored to be here, and I thank you for your invitation."

She grinned and shrugged. "Naturally," she turned to Maridian, then looked at him slightly with a side-look, "You're practically family, after all." Then, she thrust herself at Maridian again, wrapping her arms strongly around her sister and squeezed tightly.

Remy protested, slid out from between them, but Maridian held her securely in a tight hug regardless of the protest. Tears suddenly welled in her eyes as the pulsating music around them beat a trail through the air with the buzzing of patrons along with it. She swallowed a shaky breathe she knew would turn into a sob and pulled back from her sister. Taking her face in her hands, she smiled at the blossoming middle sister.

"I am proud of you," she said quietly, " _so_ proud of you."

Henna nodded, still beaming. "Thank you," she sighed heavily, "I couldn't be doing this without you, sister." Then, she lunged forward and gave her a quick kiss, before dipping to give the youngest of them a quick squeeze and forehead kiss.

Then, moving from their party and towards the stage, she was gone to converse with the head of the band, who was a lively and colorful man of about 20. They gestured back and forth briefly, his face lighting up, before he took her to the corner and began discussing music selections as the band thrummed on in his absence.

* * *

Henna's performance was that of a thrilling ballad that had the entire cantina at a loss – the entire place and dropped into a dead silence that was both shattering and exciting at once. It was as if the suns themselves had stopped shining and garnered the attention of the world when music flowed out of her mouth, striking the atmosphere like a match of light.

The room had exploded with praise and applause, and Maridian watched her sister transform from a girl to woman before her very eyes. She was graciously accepting and diligent, and fell into the spotlight as if she'd been saturated in it from birth – she knew, even now, that Henna would be the same. Or, for that matter, any of them.

They'd taken a table at Thor's insistence near the front corner, with a wonderful view Henna and the musicians, but also off into the shadows as to not be directing attention. She, Ben, and her father sat in observant silence well throughout the evening, until the hours waned and Remy fell quietly asleep at Maridian's side, snoring slightly. Her fourteen years of age were well recognizable in light of the establishment, and Maridian did not blame her for her drifting.

She watched quietly, until her father nudged her hand beneath the table, signaling her attention. He silently gestured to Ben in a stare that would ignite the coldest of nights in fire, and beamed at her. She shook her head slightly in a no, and pursed her lips together – would this man not surrender? Her eyes floated over subconsciously to Ben, but she pulled them away from him until her father cleared his throat.

"Ben," he said strongly, "would you mind retrieving me a drink? I lack the company alcohol so delightfully promises," he grinned cheekily, despite Maridian's glare.

Ben nodded and rose. "Certainly," he stretched his neck slightly, "Any preference?"

"An ale would be fine." He gestured to Maridian to rise, "And take Maridian with you, would you?" He eyed her with a smirk, "It will be good for her to stretch her legs."

To her dismay, the man hardly seemed phased. "Of course. I entirely agree." He rounded the table and offered her a hand. She hesitated, looked from his open palm to his face, brows slightly raised. He chuckled at her, "Certainly by now you know I don't bite, Maridian."

A thousand different thoughts spun through her mind, all surrounding the very fact that her body was plagued with newfound heat and her heart was thrumming irregularly. She smiled at him and sighed, lifting a hand into his own. "It isn't your bite I'm concerned with, sir," she teased him lightly, "Just your bark."

He grinned at her and they moved away from the table. "A valid insight, I suppose." They moved through the patrons, observantly watching her sister, until they reached the bar. Thor and Xee met her there with wide smiles, Thor slapping the counter excitedly.

"Maridian! Good to see you!" He gestured to her, "You look magnificent, as always, sweetheart." He reached for her hand, kissed it with a loud and wet _smack_ , and winked at her. "Glad you're not working tonight, yes?"

He was so blissfully unaware of her condition that she nodded with a light smile. "Things don't seem _too_ bad around here," she chimed.

"Not with your sister holding everyone at throat," Xee commented squarely, "She's wonderful, Maridian. You've been hiding her from us!"

Thor looked genuinely pleased as his eyes flecked to her sister's poignant performance. "Of course she is!" He declared, "She's a Hail daughter! All of you are as smart as whips, diligent as the heat, and as beautiful as the suns." He cheekily beamed at her, then looked at Ben. "Kenobi," he noticed, "good to see you. Heard you moved on from Talor's place, then?"

Suddenly surprised by the statement, Ben's brows shot up. Maridian's brow furrowed, swiveling in her seat to face him. He looked at her briefly before reaching up to scratch his cheek lightly. "It was time, yes," he lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, "thankfully, we parted on agreeable terms."

However pleasantly satisfying his statement was, the look he gave Maridian said that it had been anything but agreeable. And from having conducted business with Talor most of her entire life, she knew it to be less true than he would honorably tell a practical stranger. Thor, however, seemed pleased with his statement and saw to Ben's order.

After he left to hand off her father's drink, Ben returned momentarily to offer her his hand again. There was a quietness in his demeanor now, one that she remembered, as he gestured to the door. "Some fresh air?"

She nodded, "Please."

He led her out carefully, minding people and aliens alike, until finally they breached the cantina and basked in the cool air of the evening. It wiped away the perspiration that gathered on Maridian's forehead and tossed her curls lightly around her face. Ben stood beside her just beside the cantina's door, arms crossed over his chest and legs braced a shoulder's distance apart.

She took in his frame for a moment, then tucked some hair behind her ear and blurted, "You and Talor didn't part agreeably, did you?"

He snapped a look of attention to her and riddled her with confusion, but when he sighed and cupped a hand behind his neck, he closed his eyes and nodded. "Unfortunately not," he paused a moment, "things were at a bit of a discord when we parted."

She blinked a few times, wrinkling her brow. "I'm sorry. Talor can be strong tempered."

At this he chuckled and gave her a coy side-glance. "As we all can, at moments." He then turned to face her and contemplated her a moment, Maridian feeling slightly uncomfortable. Something – no, the force – swirled through her gut and caught her breathe under his stare.

He spoke again. "You didn't tell me you were promised in marriage to Talor."

She shot a look at him frowning. "Is it any of your business?"

Ben, surprised, raised a cocked brow and dipped his head at her slightly. "The integrity of a woman is always my business, Maridian. If I would have known –"

"- then you would've what? Treated me differently than before?" She turned to face him, but her hands on her hips, and cocked one defiantly at him. "Would you have spent our time together any differently knowing I was promised in marriage? Does this change anything?" Her words were biting and hot.

He looked slightly disheveled and hurt. Clamping his jaw, he answered. "Perhaps not." Then, he turned from her and let out a harsh breath, "Things are going to get very complicated before they become simpler, Maridian. "

"Then it seems we have a common problem," she spat at him. He snapped his head to look at her, surprised. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then turned on her heel. "Forgive me, but, I'm a little tired. I think I'll go rejoin Father and Remy." With a dip of her head, she stepped down into the stairs, her stomach alive with passionate swirls and angered brew.

* * *

"You really shouldn't be doing this yet –"

Throwing off her sister's grabbing hand, Maridian whirled about. "It needs done, and someone has to do it." Her tone was biting and snappy, as it had been for two days since the night of Henna's performance at the cantina – and the night with Ben.

Ben had left the next morning to his hovel, promising to return within the week to check on her progress and make sure things were well at hand. He had not, as of yet, paid a visit to the house – and, for good reason, she assumed. Maridian had regretted as soon as she'd stepped down into the cantina her words to him, and the tone she'd assumed. She had done nothing but dig a deeper hole than she'd been in before, now with no graceful way to exit it than through a terrible does of humility and crow.

She chucked a sack of bantha feed onto her shoulder, her body protesting to the movement in slight and noticeable jabs of pain. Not entirely restored from her ordeal, she'd had to face the proddings of not only her immediately family and Ben, but also Sonika's calls and concerns. She was surrounded by far too much concern and care, and she'd been aching to set to work away from hands and burning questions.

However, Talor had still not called on her since her incident – not that he knew, which was better that way, but the fact he had not called since he'd confirmed their engagement was offsetting and strange. Perhaps it was for the best, she realized, because she wasn't sure she could stand the sight of him and his concern when he came to see her – she could barely withstand her father's proddings and knowing glances.

Despite all that had happened, she must still marry Talor. She had no choice in the survival of her family and their name save marriage to him, and she could see no reasonable way of escape. Hopelessness had all but scorched any feelings besides dread, and she spent her hours sulking in her own grief and situation. Her attraction to Ben, however, had not subsided.

To his credit, he had seen to all that he'd promised: the breeding stall's expansion was now complete and ready for use, the fencing had been fixed, and the vaporator had been repaired in more areas than the broken one. He'd seen to all her loose ends in her absence from chores, save for the mundane, daily tasks, which she was grateful for. She would have to thank him when she saw him tomorrow for their first "meeting".

Henna, now standing in a burning pillar of bruised pride, scowled at her sister. "Of course it needs done, but _you're_ not the one to do it!" She beat her sister to the other sack of feed and slammed her foot on top of it, almost toppling out of balance.

Maridian quirked a smirk at her. "Move aside, Henna –"

"No!" She shoved her back half a step, "You've done nothing but be a…a...a clobberhead since the night at the cantina!" Her frantic and upset eyes searched Maridian's momentarily, before she turned on her heel. "I'm sick of you being so stubborn and mean to everybody around here," she spat, "I'll do this myself. Go and rest."

With that, her sister stooped to shoulder the sack, and marched between the pile and corner silently as Maridian watched. Her blood fueled with rage and shame, she stalked out of the barn loudly and marched towards the house, but not before movement on the horizon caught her attention and she noticed the eopie begin moving down the sands.

Heart dashing before her stomach plummeted, she noticed it was Ben. Huffing an aggrevated breathe, she stalked out to meet him beyond the perimeter of the house, hand shielding her eyes against the blazing suns. Upon closer examination, she noticed his face was dark with sun, and prickles of sand coated him from head to toe.

The eopie moaned at her approach, and she extended a hand to greet the animal. Her father had sent it with Ben the morning of his departure as a gesture of thanks for his services, and he'd obliged the offer. It was the same eopie she'd riddent he day he'd rescued her – the first day they'd met. Craning her neck up, she gave him a lopsided smile.

"Hi Ben," she said quietly.

He nodded at her and smiled, as if unphased from their interaction the evenings before. Swinging off the animal, his boots shifted slightly in the sand and he lowered the hood of his cloak. His hair no longer slicked back from the night of the performance, Maridian noticed the length again had returned to it, as well as its slightly unkempt state. She also noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Hello, Maridian," he said methodically, "You look well." He scanned her up and down, then nodded his affirmation. "I'm sorry to be unannounced, but I wanted to see how things were."

Her brows rose. "Oh."

He gave her a slight upturn of his lips.

She paused a moment, grabbed the animal's bridle on the other side of its face, and began leading them to the house. There was uncomfortable silence as she waged war on her emotions and scanned her brain for words to say. He seemed pleasant enough in silence, but before they reached the perimeter of the house, she stopped the beast and swung around to face him from the animal's other side.

"Ben."

He raised a brow. "Yes?"

She swallowed. "About the other night…"

He gave her a quirky smile, "About it?"

She blinked. "What I said, I –"

"I know," he said empathetically, "It's alright. Do not concern yourself with it."

She stared at him, surprised and also unsure. She must've shown it, because he chuckled and winked at her, "Your first lesson, my friend. Reading behavior is crucial in understanding force-sensitive's and understanding the presence of the force." He chuckled. "Don't worry. It's not a lesson learned overnight."

With that, he gestured to the house, and left her standing in the sand, walking a few paces. She opened her mouth to say something, but then he stopped, turned around with the reign of the animal still at hand, and smiled at her softly.

"Apology accepted, Maridian."

Casually he turned around with the eopie at hand, and led it towards the barn. All she could do is blink at him and follow.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Maridian had allowed Ben his time with her father, instead tending to chores with ignorant Henna and a chaste Remy, keeping to herself as she measured grain for the female bantha's. She'd worked steadily, eyeing the house over her shoulder, while wondering about Ben Kenobi and her father conducting business or polite chat.

Ben had not stayed for dinner, instead insisting on returning to the hovel before nightfall. He'd left with a quiet word, a brief nod, and a promise of seeing Maridian tomorrow for their first meeting. He would pick her up in the morning and return her, to be sure of her safety.

She'd slept fitfully as a result of his presence at home, regretting still her words at Henna's performance. She had known he was only trying to help her – and too that she'd been wrong to keep her betrothal from him, especially now that they'd be spending time together alone. The thought of his hurt eyes welled a pit of despair in her chest, which bubbled dreadfully into her throat.

It was morning now, and she was up before her sisters to pack a light meal and check on the animal's before leaving for the day. The house was dark and warm already in the Tatooine morning, drops of sweat forming between her shoulder blades – promising new sores on her skin by the day's completion. Still tender from the attack, she moved carefully and made sure her reaches were not rushed as she packed for her trip and went outside to check the herds.

Breeding season would be just a few weeks away, and she was grateful that in her absence Ben had helped her family prepare. As she checked the pumps and the feed of the animal's, she was content with their supply and left for the house.

She entered to find her father, hardly awake, float into the living room on his hoverchair. He stared at her a moment and gave her a groggy smile, "Good morning, my love. You look well."

She nodded at him. "I feel better," she insisted again, as she did most mornings. She gathered her satchel and cloak on the table and moved to intercept her father with a kiss good morning. "I've already checked the animal's this morning, so Henna should only have to do an afternoon feeding," she slipped into the cloak now, "and I'll be home before dinner, so I can –"

He interrupted her. "I've just received a call from Talor this morning."

His statement stopped her in a freezing pillar. "And?"

"And he wants to come to the farm and talk," he said dryly, "to plan your engagement announcement, I would imagine."

There was a heavy quiet that blanketed the room between them, and she pulled the hood over her head after a long moment. Trembling burned in her limbs and rattled her heart like a cage, reminding her of her obligations. Then, she also remembered he had not inquired or checked on her in weeks – or called for her, as betrothed men should do. A flicker of pain resonated across her skin.

"I see," she responded quietly, eyeing her father. She remembered his promise, but wouldn't remind him of it. "I can have dinner prepared tomorrow if that's what he wants." The thought of him eating at their table in Ben's place almost made her sick with agony.

Her father stared at her. "Maridian."

She couldn't look at him, feeling her eyes brim with watery tears. She let out an uneasy breathe. "Don't, Papa," she said raggedly, then eyed a look at him. "I will be fine. Everything will be just fine." She grabbed the satchel and moved towards the door, but he intercepted her quickly in his chair.

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her up. "It's okay if everything isn't fine, Maridian. And everything _isn't_ fine," he inserted sharply, "I plan to call off your engagement with him this afternoon while you are away."

Panic struck her heart. "What?"

He bored his stare into her. "You do not love him, and it isn't right for either of you. It's unfair to him, and to you." She pulled against her father's grasp roughly, and he released her. She took a few uneasy steps back from him to balance. "Do not look at me that way, child."

She seethed. Everything was coming unraveled. She saw her life flash before her eyes in brief beats – Jabba, slavery, her family, the farm. They all waved across her face in a blurry vision.

"Maridian –"

"Papa!" Her voice was ragged and uneven, "You can't do this. We need this marriage! We need his resources and his provision, otherwise we will lose the farm," she spat the words at him like venom, "We do not have the resources or the hands to go another winter. And you," she gestured to him, "need more care and I can't – no. Just no. I will marry Talor, I promise – and I will be happy!" Even as she said it, a sob escaped her throat, and her hands flew to her mouth. "I promise I can be happy…"

He'd begun to cry, shaking his head. "Maridian, please…"

She shook her head, "No, Papa. I _must_ marry him. I _can_ marry him. It will be fine – I can learn to –"

"You are falling in love with Ben, Maridian. And he is falling in love with you." His voice was quavering, and tears fell from his eyes. Her voice caught on her own words, which rattled around her chest like blasterbolts. Her father began to weep now, shaking in his chair, "I'm sorry – I can't let this destroy you all."

She gasped at him, staring blankly. Her stomach pitched, and her nerves ran icy cold. He stared at her a moment, and she whimpered. _Ben._ His name repeated over and over in her head – how did her father know when she was unsure? How could everyone _but_ her know? Her throat constricted to the point of where it seemed to cut off her air supply, her lungs beginning to burn hot.

Without another word, she ran from the house with her father nothing but a blurry vision.

* * *

 _"Then it seems we have a common problem,"_

The words echoed around Obi-Wan's chest as if they were spoken across an empty cavern, reverberating over and over to haunt him in the quiet of his loneliness.

He had regretted bringing up the subject of her engagement immediately after the words had fled his mouth. She had been right, after all – it was none of his business whom she was engaged to or not. He had no business prying his nose where it didn't belong, especially in the romantic affairs of anyone, him being the oblivion of a Jedi that he was – or a former Jedi or whatever he would call himself. He shouldn't care about her betrothal or her marriage, or her romantic affairs at all. It was forbidden by the Order.

 _Then why do you feel this way, you fool?_

He wasn't sure how to answer his own question. Obi-Wan couldn't help the way he felt – it had crept into him since the first time he'd rested eyes on her, he imagined, and had only increased throughout time as he'd learned of her force sensitivity and her great potential – not that her abilities were his reasons for being drawn to her, he'd admit, but it was a factor in the entire ordeal.

As these weeks had gone by at agonizing paces, he could not help but admit that he had sorely missed her company since that first week. He had missed her awkward presence and her uncertain eyes, and had relished in the way her face always blushed when they talked. Obi-Wan liked her careful demeanor and her innocence, as well as her careful distance – it made him want to close it even more and bridge the gap faster than he'd ever done. She was like one giant trial that he was lost in, and so desperately wanted to complete. But, at the very same time, he could forever be lost and not care one moment. She challenged him and questioned him while all at once being the answer to everything he'd ever needed to know.

Obi-Wan had not felt so strongly attracted to someone within the force since Anakin, and he had not had such strong feelings for another woman since Satine. Long ago he had buried that burden to rest and pushed her out of his heart, vowing to never look at another woman as long as he'd lived like he had her. Since her death he had naught but sought the force and the Light; sought to be a better mentor and a better man – a better Jedi. How quickly it had all fallen downhill since her death; the war, Anakin, the Order, himself. How quickly had _he_ fallen as a Jedi without the Order there to catch him?

He had agonized many times since having landed on Tatooine to deliver Anakin's son to a better – safer- future; trying to outrun the past and catch up with his future. Obi-Wan had been struggling to survive since Mustafar and Anakin's death as he drowned in his own wayward guilt. The Empire, like a thief, came to steal whatever hope he garnered for the future. He'd though he had found peace and seclusion on this desert world, and a chance to pursue his own desires and grow himself as not a Jedi, but a man.

And instead, fate had beaten him to it by tossing his duty as a Jedi back into his face. Like salt rubbed into a wound, it reminded him of his desire for the light and his oaths as a Jedi. He could not just sit by and watch Maridian Hail flounder in the galaxy, not when he found himself so mesmerized by her – not when she made him feel the way he felt now: that loneliness away from her company and the life and sense of strength he felt when he was near her. How could one person make him both at ease and in chaos at once?

He recalled Master Yoda's cautious words to him just after the entire ordeal on Geonosis – the warning to mind his attachments; that he was not without the temptation to become close to people. After that warning he had promptly seen to end any relationships that had seemed out of control – Padmé, Taria, and others, and had attempted to make sure that Anakin would not make the same mistakes as he had. Attachment had always been difficult for him, even as a child – he longed to be accepted; to know his place as a man and as a person. He had desired recognition and achievement, as well as compassion and love. Until Qui-Gon had taken him as a padawan, the entire Order knew of his dilemma and had refused to see in him a student.

And now, even as a Master, he was right back where he started.

 _Blasted fool_ , he chastised himself, _you are nothing more than a floundering student yourself. What makes you think you can mentor this woman?_

What indeed?

He shook his head. It didn't matter what business he had, the fact still remained – he had business. He would not let another friend of his fall prey to the Empire and live to see them suffer.

Being mindful of the time, Obi-Wan saddled the eopie that Bartholomew Hail had bestowed upon him and swung up on the animal. His first lesson with Maridian was today, and he would not be late for it.

* * *

The suns scorched the sweat off Maridian's back just as quickly as it formed.

Her clothes were heavy in the afternoon heat as her feet pounded across the sands, slipping and sliding in her work boots to find solid ground. The wind whipped spiraling clouds of sands into her face, the grit stinging her skin and caking the crevices of her body. Her lungs burned as every part of her pounded with pain. Her breathing came in short, uneven huffs. Sweat stung the open sores on her back.

She could hardly sense through her sobbing and tears the direction she was moving, hoping it was relatively in the area of Ben's hovel. Subconsciously she prayed it wasn't. Instead, her head ached with pain and her nose burned with heat as she gulped in breathy mouthfuls of air. Hand clutched to her aching side, her stomach jostled unevenly as she forced one foot in front of the other.

The only sound was the whipping winds and the screaming memories that haunted the back of her mind – the shouting revelations that rocked her like a woman out to sea. Somewhere in her mind's eye she saw her father, groping across the sand's of Talba, broken and alone and crying out. She saw her sister's sold into slavery and in marriage, to survive in the brutal desert at the hands of merciless husband's; Talor, scoffing at her from his office door. She could even feel the slimy hands of Jabba the Hutt crawling over her skin, making her pay back all that she'd borrowed.

And somewhere in there, she kissed death and begged for it.

Everything was coming unraveled. Her father was going to call off the marriage and everything would be lost – everything she had tried so hard to fix would crumble into a broken mountain of regrets and shame. She wouldn't be able to stop it, Jedi-powers or not – she would be forced to stand aside as the avalanche came crashing down around her. No one would be able to save them if this spiraled out of control. And it was spiraling. Very, very quickly.

Maridian misstepped into a sunken spot of sand, her ankle twisting slightly and her toppling to the floor. She squealed, and fell into the sands in a heaping plop, rolling onto her back and closing her eyes against the sun. Pain erupted up her leg and into her hips, her side flaring once again with searing throbs of agony. Sand cascaded over her head and filled her mouth, forcing her to choke and spit it out roughly. It penetrated through her clothes and rubbed her skin unforgivingly.

She laid there, the suns blaring down on her, sobbing hysterically. Her body shook violently, the suns searing her closed eyes mercilessly. She should just lay here and let the desert consume her; let the Jawas pick her up and set her to work forever. Perhaps even the Tusken's would kill her here as a sacrifice unto their suns. All of them seemed to be preferable outcomes to her present situation.

Then, she inhaled a sharp breathe and held it for a moment, the world silent only briefly. Her thoughts, spinning wildly, must have been playing tricks on her, because she heard the faint call of her name. She'd heard of desert wanderers slowly slipping into oblivion because of the searing heat and raging depths of loneliness as the sands seeped life from them – perhaps she was finally going mad?

But then, she heard it again. "Maridian!"

It was clear and accented, vaguely familiar. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up on her elbows, looking over her shoulders in the direction her name had been called from. Squinting her eyes, sand fell from her hair and into her face, causing her to sputter. Blinking again, she focused on the blurry image not one hundred yards ahead of her, and reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes.

The image called her name. "Maridian?" It was a question this time, and her chest constricted. Inhaling a sharp breath, the image coming closer quickly. When she reopened her eyes, she noticed the figure was riding an animal – an eopie.

"Ben," she croaked, him pulling up the animal beside her. He swung off quickly, crossing to her quickly and dropping in the sands before her. He grabbed her shoulders, and touched her face with his hand gently, brushing aside her hair. The man, clearly in view now, scanned her eyes in concern.

"What has happened?" He asked her.

Tears welled in her eyes again, and her bottom lip quivered. Without a second thought, she fell into his chest, sobbing again, and buried her face into his chest. His smell and warmth instantly made an attempt to assault her concerns, and she trembled.

He didn't hesitate to hold her.

* * *

"I want my credits, Atonas," the droid translated stoically, "and I will not hesitate to have you replaced if you do not get them to me _._ "

Atonas stood numbly before the Hutt and his audience, feeling slightly unnerved and as if being considered for slaughter. His skin couldn't help but crawl under the pensive glare of the Hutt before him, who sucked passively on some type of half masticated creature.

He swallowed shakily. "Of course, Master," he bowed slightly, "I understand entirely. Rest assured, I am doing everything within my power to see your money returned to you."

The Hutt laughed grotesquely, said something in Huttese, and gestured to the droid for translation. It didn't resist. "I will not rest assured of anything until I have my credits." Was all it said.

He nodded, bowing low again. "Understood."

With a wave of his flabby hand, Atonas was turned away. Once outside the palace, he chanced a look over his shoulder carefully, to see if he'd been followed out. Before he could fade into the crowds and vanish from sight, he felt a strong arm grab his and whirl him around. When he turned to face the intrusive figure and jerk away, he saw the pale hand retreat within the folds of a dark cloak.

"I understand you might have a problem," the voice said. It was feminine and strong, but also silky, as if hazed in fog and danger. His brows shot up at the figure, and he stepped away quickly.

"I have no issues that I would care sharing," he hissed at her.

She chuckled. "Perhaps you should."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

Obi-Wan, sensing in the Force the sheer despair of Maridian crying out to him as he held her trembling body, both of them on their knees in the forgiving Tatooine desert, swallowed the thickness that had suddenly sprouted in his throat. The suns were harsh on his back, and he was sweating; and even as he held Maridian, he could feel her body drenched with perspiration. He reached out through the Force to examine her, and could feel her almost on the verge of collapse.

Grief, and boiling anger settled into his stomach. He could feel it tracing steaming claws along his nerves, riddling his skeleton with flaming rage. Curiosity began to play tricks on his mind and paint pictures of a horror he could hardly imagine. Her wracking sobs drove him to grief. Tears began to pull at the corner of his eyes as all he could feel and hear was her despair.

So much like Anakin on Mustafar…so much like Ahsoka in the Council Chamber…so much like Padme´ on the medical fleet. He closed his eyes and tried to vanquish the nightmares rushing through his memories; tried to crush the voices and overcome the drowning guilt.

"Oh, Ben," her gaps came in-between sobs that shook her entire body; her voice craggily and dry, "it's…hopeless. So… _hopeless._ " As Maridian continued to cry, the sands coarse beneath them, he held her tightly and cradled the back of her head with a hand, trying to smooth the wildly untamable curls around her face.

He pushed her back slightly to give her a hard stare. "Maridian," he demanded softly, " _what_ is hopeless? What has happened?"

Her eyes brimmed with newfound tears, and she shook her head. "Everything. Just…everything…." The poor girl's face was red with exhaustion and sun, and she was warm. Her grip on his arm began to weaken, as she looked up to the sky, the sun enveloping her face. "Everything…"

Obi-Wan felt her capitulating quickly, and with a gentle wave of his hand before her eyes, he surrendered her to the mercies of the Force. She collapsed instantly into his arms, but he welcomed her and stood. He took no notice of her weight through assistance within the Force, and with a leap, mounted the strong eopie.

He lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and pressed her face against his chest as he held her across the eopie, shielding her face from the sun. Sweat glistened on her temples, and sand was crusted across her skin and her hair. Upon further examination through the Force, he sensed her feet were raw from chafing sands, and that she was not yet fully recovered from her ordeal. He needed to get her inside, and properly seen to, before she suffered too terribly from the effects of sun sickness. Even as he looked down to the hidden features of her face, her subtle and simple beauty struck him, even disheveled and distraught.

And, as he guided the animal towards his hovel, Obi-Wan could not deny the throbbing pain that he felt in his heart.

* * *

"Manashe, I'll be back before supper. This shouldn't take long."

Talor situated the collar of his fresh tunic as he stared into one of the glass mirrors mounted just before the stairs, before running a hand through his slicked-back hair and giving a nod of approval at his reflection. He turned to find Manashe running her hands through a rag, staring at him blankly.

"Of course, sir. Going to see Bartholomew Hail are you, hm?" Her passive questioning caused suspicion to rise in his chest, and as he grabbed his cloak to step out the door, he wrinkled his brow at her.

"Yes," he shook his head speculatively at her, "we are to discuss my engagement to Maridian Hail." He raised his chin a fraction of an inch and brushed off the sleeve of his tunic. "At long last."

She nodded, slowly. "I see."

He could sense her disapproval. "You don't approve of our union?"

She turned quickly, before dropping a shrugging shoulder to slap the rag over her arm, moving towards the back office to collect his working clothes for washing. "It's not my place to approve of any business of yours, Master Talor." He raised his brows at her answer, but when she stopped into the doorway, she raised a brow at him, "It is, however, my place to watch out for the peoples I care for. And Miss Hail is one of those peoples, sir. I would suggest you take a look around you and consider the business, Master Talor. Miss Hail has been spending a lot of time with that stranger, Ben Kenobi. And I understand his hovel is not far from the Hail farm." He gave him a grim smile, "Be certain of your quarry, Master Talor, and make sure it is yours to take." Without anything more, she vanished into his office in a swirl of tattered cloth and greying, wiry hair.

He frowned at her, and walked out the door to retrieve his speeder.

* * *

 _Pain. Deep, echoing pain; ricocheting through her chest._

 _It was swimming upward, through her throat, to drown every attempt at breath. Her head was pounding in rhythm to what she assumed to be the aching organ anchored within her chest – yes, her heart. It was beating heavily, like a seething orb. It was pummeling against her ribs and choking the life out of her lungs._

 _Every part, down to her very skin, burned with intense heat. Weight cascaded over her like a heavy heat; threatening to suffocate her and rip her organs from her body. In the back of her mind, tormenting nightmares came to life in screaming scenes, played out before her in slow, agonizing pictures. Mute, she watched them numbly._

 _And then, in the inky blackness of her despair, she felt a pinprick of light. So intensely searing, it severed the haunting pictures and shook off the pain slowly ebbing the life out of her. Her heart began to simmer slowly, as a serene and comfortable warmth spread across her skin. Then, something leapt within her chest, and the light pulled her to her feet._

" _Maridian," came the soft, soothing voice, "Maridian…"_

 _. . ._

Maridian, at the soft murmur of her name, stirred ever so slightly from her tormenting slumber. Her head still ached and her feet throbbed, and deep within her bones she felt the aching pull of exhaustion. The call of sleep sang to her and threatened to pull her back into the inky blackness of rest.

Her mouth was parched, and her skin was sore and raw as she stirred beneath the tattered covers, which smelled of must and age. There was a heavy coolness to the air around her, so unlike the air of the Tatooine heat, and when her vision began to balance from her hazy state, she realized she was inside. Her stomach leapt into her throat in panic at the loss of understanding, and she bolted upright in a frazzled and stiff pillar.

Her heart began to hammer in terror as she looked around. Her breathing hitched and became uneven, and she gasped when a rough hand grabbed her wrist and steadied her. Maridian's attention immediately went to the figure kneeling beside the cot she'd been sleeping on, and her panic began to cease as she recognized the figure to be Ben Kenobi.

Immediately, she was filled with warmth and a sense of security as he stared at her with greyish-blue eyes as tempting as a starry evening. She relaxed and heaved a heavy sigh of relief when he took her hand in his own and patted it reassuringly.

"It's alright," he reassured her peaceably, "you're safe, Maridian. I'm afraid you were having a terrible night terror." His brow was wrinkled in concern, and he stood; hand still holding her own. "You've suffered quite the effects of sun sickness, I'm afraid."

And suddenly, she remembered how he'd discovered her – dashingly waltzing through the desert in a disheveled and hopeless heap of despair. Embarrassed, she felt her face flush red, and she placed a palm against her cheek to shake her head. How foolish she must've seemed to him, especially after everything. Quickly she remembered their conversation about the Force, and the Jedi, and her abilities – the Empire. He looked down at her, his gaze gentile and genuine, and patted her hand again.

"I've made tea," he announced swiftly, "let me bring you some. It will do you good." Then, he released her hand gently and turned to seemingly float out of site and into the small kitchenette in the corner of the hovel, to prepare tea.

As he prepared the herbal concoction, Maridian looked around the hovel and took in her surroundings. Obviously abandoned, it was dilapidated and run-down, but not to the point of disrepair. Some work had already been done in cleaning it out and organizing what little remained of the innards. Thinning places in the walls and holes had been appropriately filled with clay mixtures, and the floor was clean. There was no furniture, save the cot where she rested, the appliances in the kitchen, and a small chair in the corner. Save those items, Ben's meager belongings rested in the corner just at the foot of the cot. His cloak hung from a peg by the door, and when she glanced out the window, she saw the eopie tied to a post that looked like the remains of an older vaporizer.

Ben approached her with two cups of tea, handing her the unchipped one. She accepted it graciously, crossed her legs on the cot, and took a gentle sip of steaming liquid. She watched carefully as Ben seated himself on the floor, in the same position. His back was appropriately straight, and she noticed he was groomed.

They sat in silence, him watching her, until finally he set his tea beside him and looked back to her with a piercingly curious look. He lifted his brows. "How are you feeling?"

She took another gentle sip, the tea stinging her raw throat in a way that was comfortable. "Alright," she mumbled carefully, "just tired."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Understandable, for a woman who has braved the Tatooine deserts on foot." His gaze dropped into a frown. "What were you thinking, running across the desert with no water – and, on foot no less? Maridian, you could've killed yourself had I not found you. You're fortunate I remembered I had promised to retrieve you for our meeting."

She nodded, looking away carefully. Tears threatened her eyes as his words brought to memory her reasons for retreating to the desert. "I know," she said, meekly, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so much trouble." She gulped heavily, "I…I really don't mean to be, Ben."

At this, his expression changed entirely. Ben's brows rose to the top of his head, and he blinked at her curiously, before his brow furrowed in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?" His tone was gently probing.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I don't mean anything." Maridian looked down into her tea, watching the swirling steam carefully. "There's nothing you can do."

"Certainly that isn't true," he replied immediately, "in my experience, the least that a friend can do is offer their services." He stood effortlessly with his tea, approached her, and looked down at her carefully, offering a hand to help her stand. She took it, and he gently pulled her to her feet.

She looked up at him, suddenly lost in his soft eyes. Her heart began to throb again, and her stomach came to life with the swirling presence of what she now understood to be the once-fabled Force. A warmth spread over her skin as he considered her, and she suddenly felt every ounce of lost and found at once. Tears began to form in her eyes, and her chin began to quiver.

His face melted into a grievous one, and she sobbed, dropping the cup of tea to hide her face. It shattered on the floor, its contents spewing across the floor. She began to fall, but Ben did not hesitate – in a swift and effortless move, he grabbed her arm and stabilized her against his chest.

"Oh, Ben," she sobbed again, "it's so awful. I…I don't know what to do anymore. It's all…such a mess." She shook her head and bit her lower lip, clinging to the front of his tunic, "Everything is falling apart," she murmured.

Ben shuffled her back a step, taking her by the shoulders and looking at her sternly in the eyes. " _What_ is a mess, Maridian?"

"Everything!" She exclaimed suddenly, taking a leaping step back from him. She bumped into the cot, and plopped down into it appropriately. "My father has not only lied to me about my life, but now he is calling off my engagement to Talor!" She covered her face with her hands, sobbing extremely now; hardly able to breathe, "And now, I can't…I can't pay back the credits that I owe –"

"Credits?" He interrupted, crouching before her. Quickly, Ben grabbed her wrist and pulled her hands away from her face, a look of hard confusion on her face. "You owe credits, Maridian?"

She nodded, gasping for breath, "Yes," she managed, "in Mos Eisley. After father's accident – I had to, or we'd lose the farm," she looked away and shook her head, "and the payments have become difficult, now with interest. My marriage to Talor was going to repay the debt."

Ben's tone was soft, "Who do you owe, Maridian?"

She hesitated, bit her lower lip, and murmured, "Jabba the Hutt." When his initial look of shock melted into that of disappointment, she placed a hand to her injured ribs and sheepishly added, "It was his men that harmed me in the alley."

He stood quickly, taking a surprised step back. Then, he frowned at her; gaze hard. "You're marrying Talor for your dowry?" His tone was cold and expressionless, very much unlike the Ben she'd become so fond of.

Her heart hammered in exasperated desperation. "I don't have a choice," she insisted quickly, scrambling off the mat to stand in front of him, "if I don't, then I can't repay Jabba what I owe him. He'll take what he wants out of the farm, and put my sisters into slavery. My father…I don't even know," she shook her head frantically, "so you see, Ben, my situation is hopeless. And now…with this," she held up a hand, emphasizing her abilities within the Force, "and everything that has happened, I…I don't know."

He frowned hard at her, considering a moment. Before long, he pulled his gaze away from her and stooped to begin cleaning the mess of tea she'd shattered on the floor. After a moment of watching his gentle movements, she dropped to her knees and began picking up shattered pieces of the cup.

After a long moment of quiet, he looked up to her. "Why Jabba, Maridian?" His statement was simplistic, and stopped her movements. She halted to look at him for a brief moment or two before she responded quickly, casting her look away back to the floor of his simple hovel.

"He was the only one who I could find that would loan me money," suddenly, her skin became sore with her familiar disease, reminding her of the fateful illness, "it was either borrow from him, or work at a cantina as a dancer. When that was impossible, I did the only thing I could after my father's accident. Someone had to make money."

HE shook his head, shifting on his feet to face her, shards of cup at hand. "And your father? What are his thoughts on this?"

Ashamed, she looked away. "He doesn't know."

His face was all shock. "You've kept this from him? How long?"

"Years," she inserted quickly, reaching for his arm, "but I promise you, if he would know, it would kill him. I only kept it from him for his own good, Ben." She shifted her gaze away to add, "I never wanted him to know. He wouldn't have to, especially after I paid off what I owe with my dowry."

"And your father is calling off your engagement," he added quietly, looking away to run a hand through his beard. He scratched his chin before dragging a look back at her, "But you haven't even announced it yet."

She rolled her eyes and stood, moving towards the small kitchen in the corner with her remaining pieces of broken dishware. "It's been planned, practically since I was born. Talor is supposed to be seeing my father today to plan our announcement," she set the shards at the sink and bit her lower lip contemplatively, "but my father is breaking the engagement. I begged him not to, but he wouldn't. So I ran away."

He came up beside her and deposited his own glass and the broken pieces next to her own. Maridian cast an empty and glossed look to her feet, and found them to be bare. They were red and slightly raw from her excursion on the sands. Ben studied her a moment before running his hand through his auburn hair, and blew out a breath.

"And do you know why he is calling off your engagement?"

Her heart pitched into her legs. It was as if the atmosphere had turned into a vacuum and sucked the very life out of the room, because she felt a suddenly emptiness pitch inside of her body so deeply it felt like an endless abyss. Her mind suddenly was filled with only one thought, and her heart was brimming with only one emotion, and she could only focus on the intense heat she felt poisoning her veins.

She snapped her head up to look at him, so carefully, and so attentive. Suddenly his features jumped out at her like a nexu cat, and Maridian was overcome with his handsome face and kind eyes. His pronounced jaw and scarred cheek. His groomed hair that always fell into his eyes, and his attractively unkempt beard. Broad shoulders demanded her attention, as did his solid and well-disciplined body. The strength in his hands became her fascination. The swirling feeling of the Force called out to him from her very soul, just as it had that afternoon when he had rescued her.

Without thinking at all, the only thing that drove through her heart was the wild idea that her father had been madly right, and that she'd been living a lie for weeks, now. She, Maridian Hail, standing in this very room, could not deny any longer that she in fact did adore Ben Kenobi. Perhaps adore wasn't even the strongest word for how she felt, staring into his eyes; at his mercy – no, not at all. There was hardly enough strength in the galaxy to put into words what she was felling, in this very moment.

She, most undoubtedly, was in love with this man. As much as she shouldn't be, she was in love with him.

As if possessed by something unlike herself, she took a quick step towards him – and, like lightening, she closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around his neck, dragging him down to press her lips against his own.

Immediately, heat spiraled up her spine to ricochet against her brain, sending her emotions and her body in a swirling mass of confusion and pleasure. All at once she became delightfully frightened – her body began to tingle in ways it never had been before. Her legs turned into a gelatinous mass. She felt as if she'd collapse in faint.

Most surprisingly, however, was the fact that he made no move to withdraw from her. While at first he had been unsure, even tentative of her; bristling in surprise, he had slowly drifted into a comfortable stance to further explore her ministrations. Soon, instead of standing like a rigid stone, he relaxed slightly. Hand sliding gently across her hip to hold her waist and lips firmly pressing against her own in welcoming reassurance, Maridian slowly felt herself begin to melt into him further. It was only a matter of moments before her fist was lost in the fabric of his tunic, and his fingers were running gently through her curls.

And suddenly, as quickly as it began, he broke away and heaved in a heavy breath. "Maridian," his said, his voice an accented rasp, "this is something we shouldn't do,"

And suddenly, she felt something strike her stomach so strong that it pulled her back a step. She gasped and released him, blanching white. Because, Maridian had the shocking realization that not only had she kissed a man for the first time, but a man had kissed her back. She felt her passions crumble like sand.

"Why?" She insisted suddenly, breathless.

He shook his head, "I…" he was suddenly at a loss of poise, composure, and words. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked back up to her from his place across the floor. "Where I come from, this is something that is…most complicated."

Complicated? "What are you saying?" She took a step back from him.

He looked at her, despairingly. "Maridian," he began, folding his hands outward in a placating fashion, "please, Maridian, listen to me –"

She put up a hand, shook her head, and backpedaled towards the door. "No, Ben. Please…" she locked eyes with him and inhaled a shaky breath, but willed herself not to cry. Instead, she felt rolling disappointment and uncertain shame rush through her body and plague her stomach. "Please, don't –"

"This isn't what you think, Maridian," he began.

She moved out of the kitchen, turning sharply on her heel. "I don't see how it can be anything else, Ben," she said quietly, "I think it's best that I go –"

And, as if like lightening, he was at her side in a breath; grabbing her arm to bring her about in a swing. Surprised, she staggered backwards half a step, but counterbalanced. He was still holding her arm possessively, and he stared into her face with a look of desperation and lost confusion. "Don't walk away, Maridian. Please."

She swallowed as he said her name. "What else am I supposed to do?" She echoed the empty speculation in his voice, and scanned his eyes for any type of answer. "I can't go on and ignore this like it isn't anything, Ben," she murmured quietly, "I'm sorry."

He pinned her with a desperate look. "You can't walk away, Maridian. Your life, and the life of your family, depends on that," he insisted sharply, "what you are capable of cannot be ignored, regardless of our…feelings for one another."

Her head snapped up, and she felt her heard soar like a bird on a warm breeze. Her legs felt like jelly to the point of where she'd collapse, and she sucked in a sharp breath so quickly that her lungs burned. She blinked at him, his grip on her arm tightening in a way that didn't bother her but instead reassured her. Maridian relaxed slightly, and searched his eyes again, her mouth suddenly parched.

"You mean…you mean you have feelings for me, Ben?"

He looked away and heaved a sigh before releasing her arm, nodding slowly. "I'm afraid so," he murmured quietly, "as dangerous as it is, I do have feelings for you. I can't deny it."

Her brow dropped into a shocked furrow. "Dangerous?" She squeaked, "I don't understand,"

Ben dragged his gaze back up to her, and kept her in a confused suspense for a fraction of a second longer than she would've preferred. "There's much you don't understand, Maridian. And a great deal of it you should never, though I fear the time has come for you to know."

She swallowed thickly. "Know what?"

"Maridian," he paused, ran a hand along the back of his neck, and murmured, "there is much you don't understand. Sit down," he gestured back towards the cot, and heaved another sigh, "it's time for your first lesson."


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

Talor could hardly hear the beating of his own heart as his world came crashing down around him in a fiery inferno of broken promises and shattered hope.

He stood so quickly from the table that his knees hit the edge, rattling the cups of tea he and Bartholomew Hail had been discussing over. His chest burned heavily, and his lungs throbbed with panic. Talor was certain that his nostrils were flaring, and he was beginning to sweat through his best clothes as he glared daggers at the crippled man across from him.

He looked genuinely sorry enough. His eyes pulled down ward in unison with the frown on his face, and he held out his hands as if in a placating fashion, even seated across the table. He jumped when Talor stood suddenly, and then again when he slammed his fist on the table. He may have looked genuinely sorry, but Talor was genuinely beyond the point of caring just _how_ this backstabbing, two-timing, bantha farmer looked.

"Talor," he started, eyes diverting to his hand where it was balled in a tight fist on the table-top, "please, try to understand. Maridian is young. She is unsure of what she truly wants, even now." He shook his head, "Now is just not the time for her to marry, until she is certain of what she wants. You must understand."

Understand? Talor understood good and well – everything he had worked for, and everything he was counting on, was now spiraling down the sarlacc pit faster than he could help. Jabba the Hutt would have his head on a silver platter, if he didn't acquire the Hail property and capitalize on its profits. Yes – he understood good and _well_.

He thrust an accusing finger at the man. "We had a bargain, old man! You promised me Maridian's hand in marriage in return for her dowry. That girl is promised to me!" With a swipe of his hand, he launched the wares on the table to the floor, where they crashed and shattered loudly.

The man recoiled in his chair, his eyes flecking with uncertainty. "I understand your position, Talor. But I have decided that Maridian is not ready to marry." He gestured across the table to him with a hand and offered a weak smile. "You are young, my friend. Every girl in Talba is vying for your hand in marriage. There are many women who are just as beautiful, or even more so, than her." He looked away. "Talor. You are a great deal older than Maridian, and you are more experienced in life than she is. I'm afraid she would only disappoint you as a wife." He looked back up at him and sighed, "And since you have not yet given me a dowry for Maridian –"

"A dowry? I gave you my prized Oasis – Maridian and I made the deal nearly two months ago, Bartholomew. Your livestock has been grazing and drinking that water in quantities enough to feed the Imperial army!" He was livid now, and leaned across the table to glare at the man. "You can't do this. It has been arranged since…since she has been born!" He felt his stomach sink, as if the sands themselves were pulling it down. He needed to sound more convincing, so he added bitingly, "I love her, Bartholomew. I have waited a good number of years for her hand – and I refuse to wait any more."

His face paled. "I am sorry, Talor. But the answer is no."

It was more or less true. With the Hail wealth came its eldest daughter – she was a creature to behold, to be sure. Her innocence and strength of character was practically the envy of the very suns. While she could be reserved and somewhat shy, for the most part Maridian was strong willed and intelligent. He knew she was passionate about a great deal of things, and that she was responsible. And, what was more; she was the prettiest face this side of Anchorhead. Together they would be the envy of Tatooine.

He would not let her slip away. No.

He was too young – too prestigious – to die at the hands of a Hutt.

He pushed himself away from the table, and moved towards the door, where he collected his cloak and satchel for his return back into Talba. He stopped in the doorway of the ascending stairs and worked into his cloak, before whipping a look across the room at the man.

"Mark my words, Bartholomew Hail. This is not over. Maridian _will_ be my wife, one way or another. You, or no one else, will take her away from me. That is a promise." He pulled the hood of the cloak over his head, and turned to march up the stairs to where his speeder was parked just outside.

* * *

Maridian felt her throat concave close, and simultaneously her heart sank deep past her chest and into her feet. A swirling sense of confusion and uncertainty clouded her thoughts, and her mind began to buzz as if an insect had been set lose to devour her sense of reason. For the first time a long while, she felt cold while the suns were high in the sky. A sheen coat of clammy perspiration set over her skin.

Ben – or now, as she understood, Obi-Wan – was sitting before her, on a chair. He stared into contemplative space, his elbows resting on his knees. She could see the nervous anxiety running through him as all which he had just revealed hung between them like a stinging shroud. He was pale, and his eyes looked tired as his hands motionlessly held the empty cup between his knees. For a moment, he looked exceptionally old – so very unlike the man she had kissed just an hour ago, in this very hovel. Old, and so very grieved.

She tried to absorb the information of the Empire and the Jedi Council. It was becoming difficult to imagine it now in her mind, as she looked back to him from the small window she'd been gazing out. He seemed so very unlike a Jedi, but as she sat in his presence and recounted all the time they'd spent together, she took back the thought – he very much suited her as a Jedi, indeed. He had the wisdom and the serenity, as well as the calm collectivity that the Jedi had been known for. There was an aura of grace around him that she hadn't known in other men before. He exuded strength, and ebbed peace.

 _A Jedi_. That was the only thought she could process. Her world had been tossed upside down and upended all in a mere matter of moments – but wasn't that what life was? A few key moments and their repercussions? The situation of the galaxy – sitting under the extreme hand of the Empire – had been plundered under the actions of a few moments. Her life had changed in a matter of breaths, and Ben – _Obi-Wan_. His life had changed forever in the same amount of time. Order 66 had ravaged his people – a people that had been prosperous guardians of the galaxy for generations.

How could she look at him the same way? She couldn't, could she? He wasn't the same person - he wasn't Ben. She understood and knew Ben Kenobi – she had fallen in love with him. Foreign was this man Obi-Wan, whom he had just told her about, and foreign was the concept of the Jedi sitting before her. How could he be a Jedi? She hadn't seen him use the Force, or carry a lightsaber. He didn't act like a Jedi. How could she – all over them – be so deceived?

And, for that matter – could she trust him?

She swallowed back the idea. Of course she could trust Obi-Wan. He had saved her life, a number of times, and had helped her family. He had helped nurse her back to health, and had taken a friend in her, despite all of her behaviors. He was helping her now, under the weight of her Force-sensitivity. Hiding himself, he understood the dangers of the Empire and their shared predicament. Maridian was beginning to understand his situation, and his reasons behind all that he had told her. If she were collected by the Empire, it would not be difficult for them to find him, or Darth Vader's son, Luke. Everything he had worked for – survived for – would perish in another series of moments.

It was all riding on her. Yet another added burden to her series of unmanageable responsibilities. But, she understood his plight – if she were to leave, untrained, it would mean the end of them all. The galaxy would truly be dark. Her family would perish. Nothing would be left.

She dropped her gaze into her lap and sighed, wringing her hands together. _What a position to be in,_ she surmised to herself. To have the trust of not only a man – but a _Jedi –_ was one thing. But, to have the trust of the galaxy's darkest secret? That was another thing entirely. She, a simple Talban farmer – now with a responsibility that not even the best Jedi could handle. The thought was terrifying.

But – how could she refuse? How could she look at this man, Obi-Wan Kenobi, once of the Jedi Order, and refuse him her help and her understanding? She looked up from her lap to gaze into his face, and her stomach soared with newfound flight. Her heart began to hammer, and she began to get warm. Her chest tightened with newfound excitement at the idea of his…underdeveloped feelings for her. The "dangerous" feelings that he had admitted having for her. The very idea made her lightheaded. Not only did she have the trust and respect of a Jedi, but she had, somehow, won the affections of one, too.

He reached up to run his hands through his hair, and glance dup at her. "So now you understand, Maridian, the severity of our plight. What we do now is dangerous." He looked away. "I'm afraid that things are going to become a lot more complicated before they are resolved." After a moment, he shook his head and exhaled, pinning her with his sharp and deep gray-blue eyes, "This is my doing. I should have never gotten you and your family involved. For that, I deeply apologize."

She pushed herself off the cot and crossed the two steps to him, now standing before him. He didn't look up to her, his very form filled with shame and hesitance. She swallowed a thick breath, and lowered to her knees before him, gently reaching to take the cup from his hands. He relinquished it, and watched as she set it aside beside her. Biting her lower lip, she exhaled through her nose, and took his hands in hers. He bristled with rigidity.

"This is no one's fault but the Empire's," she said strongly, though her voice was on the brink of quivering, "and do not store up guilt. If it had not been for you, I would be a very different person." She squeezed his hand, "Everything happens for a reason. I doubt that this is an exception. You are here for a reason, and that is to watch over your apprentice's son, and to keep yourself alive."

He released her hand and raked back a fistful of hair. "If I had not gotten involved with Issik, none of this would have happened. You would be married, and your debts clear. You wouldn't have been attacked, and I –"

She shook her head and gripped his hand tighter. "But you did get involved with Issik, and you are here now. These events would be very different had you not did what you have done." Maridian gave him her best chuckle, "My decisions are just that – mine. They are no fault of yours. My father always told me not to get upset over things you cannot change. You cannot change your past. And you certainly can't change the future. Right now, all you can do is live where you are at. And that," she squeezed his hand again, "is right here, on Tatooine. Luke needs you to be strong. _I_ need you, Obi-Wan." She was crying now, and she didn't understand why.

At the use of his given name, his head snapped up and he locked gazes with her. Suddenly, Maridian felt very small under his prolific stare, and her stomach knotted nervously. Every part of her began to boil, and her mouth became so dry that the sands of the desert might just as well reside there. He absorbed her statement, and she could see the grief in his eyes diminish only slightly, as a flicker of hope sparked in them and mounted a tentative smile on his face.

In a gentle motion, he released her hands and cupped her face in his palms, brushing aside a misplaced curl with his thumb. Maridian felt herself begin to sink, and something punched her gut as if it were lightening rod of heat. Her body began to tingle, and she felt a swirling motion in the Force surge through her body and shoot right through to her fingertips, clear through her nerves. In one fluid motion, he pulled her forward, and lowered his face to kiss her.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware of everything as he held her face in his hands and his lips pressed against her own, tentatively. She wrapped her hand around his wrist and gave a small sigh as heat rushed straight to her feet and curled her toes. Only once had she ever kissed a man, and that had been just an hour before, in this very hovel, with this very man – and, she was certain that she could never kiss another man again and feel the same sense of security and passion that she did now.

He slipped off the chair and moved to his knees, now equal with her on the floor, but still a head and shouders taller. She felt lost in his very frame as he pulled her closer, the space between them vanishing altogether as his body molded into hers. She tentatively let her hand feel the strength of his arm and travel to his shoulder; the other grabbing at his tunic. Her body began to quiver when his fingers got lost in her curls and his other hand moved to cup the small of her back. Obi-Wan's lips moved against her own, probing her and demanding more, and Maridian was certain that she had never tasted anything so wonderful as him.

When she couldn't breathe any more, she broke the kiss and pulled back a fraction of a inch from him, but didn't release the front of his tunic. He didn't release her either, instead moved the curls around her face out of the way and tucked them tenderly behind her ear and over her shoulder. She felt as if she were sucking in air like an airlock, but she realized he was breathing heavily as well. After a moment or two of being entirely lost in his strong gaze, she released the grip she had on his tunic and swallowed heavily.

He smiled softly at her. "You would have made a wonderful Jedi, indeed." When she grinned at him, he looked back out the window and sighed heavily. "You should understand something, Maridian – this is a difficult thing." He stroked his beard passively, "My people have been denied attachments for generations. It is the only way I have ever known." He was serious, "Attachment is uncharted for a Jedi. It is an area of much dispute." He got up, and offered her a hand.

She rose. "I don't understand," she said, offset. He moved towards the window. She furrowed her brow, and panic began to mount in her tone. "If this is something you don't want, why –"

He stopped her and turned around, and walked towards her. He put his hands on her shoulders and demanded her attention. "It is crucial that you understand, Maridian – I care a great deal for you. I do. But…my grapple with morality is difficult, as a Jedi. This is something I need you to be aware of. While my intentions are...obvious," he paused, "they might not always be clear. This is something that I want, yes. I want to know you any every way that you would allow me to do so – I just may not understand how to do so. Does that make sense?" He pinned her with a seriously questioning look.

She smiled softly at him, heart swelling. "Yes." Maridian moved towards him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and reached up to run her fingertips along his bearded jaw. She stood on her tiptoes to gently press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "It makes perfect sense, Obi-Wan."

He took her face in his hands again and smiled crookedly at her, his face dusted with a sheepish blush that she found immensely attractive. She realized that he was just as innocent in these things as she was, as a Jedi. "It is good to hear you say my name," he pulled her into an embrace and sighed, "but only use it when we are alone. It is far too dangerous otherwise."

She nodded, listening to the beat of his heart against her cheek. His breathing felt calm and collected, and steady. His strength was overwhelming. "Of course," she murmured against his chest.

He nodded firmly, then shuffled her back a few steps. "Good. Now, if I am to be your teacher," he looked out the small window of hovel and sighed, "I should have you back to your father and assure him that you are alright."

She smiled at him. "He is likely to have already talked with Talor. I would imagine he is beside himself with worry." She collected her cloak and slipped into it as he did much the same thing. Obi-Wan met her at the door and turned her to face him again, his expression serious.

"We mustn't let this get in the way of your training, Maridian," he said crucially, "it is vital that you learn control, especially if you are under observation by Jabba the Hutt. He is likely to have attachments in the Empire." He added, "And, I would like this to remain between us, for the time being. I need time."

She dipped her head in understanding, then grinned. "I'm not going anywhere if you aren't," she shrugged a shoulder, "we should go. I don't want you to have to travel back in the dark." Then, she tossed him a quick wink before pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, and moved out of the doorway.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

_Atonas pulled his arm out of her grip, and rubbed it where he was sure she'd left marks on his forearm. He took in her statement carefully, and shuffled half a step back away from her, looking past her shoulder for any sign of his counterpart._

 _She stepped towards him, a light smirk evident on her dark lips. "Rumor has it that you are having trouble collecting credits from a livery owner and his fiancée," her voice dripped with manipulative charm, almost as silky as midnight._

 _He glared at her. "Rumors are nothing in this city," he spat, "and mean even less, especially to offworlders." After a moment, he gestured to her, "You're not from here. Who are you?"_

 _"My name is of little importance," she insinuated, "but, my skills may perhaps be. I am looking for a Jedi." The way she said the name made his stomach sour, and Atonas was fairly certain that if his skin had not been attached to his skeleton, it would've crawled beneath the sands to escape her tone. She gestured with a hand from the folds of her cloak and pointed at him with a delicate finger, "And I am told you perhaps would be able to assist me in my search."_

 _This surprised him. His brow shot up at her statement – everyone knew the Jedi were dead. The Empire had been hunting them for weeks, now. He didn't know of any that had survived the massacre of Order 66. Not that he cared, greatly. What more concerned him was how his name had been linked to such a delicate issue.  
_

 _"Maybe I can," he hissed at her, "for a price."_

 _She chuckled. "I imagine so. Money is no object where this is concerned." Out from her belt she pulled a device and slipped it to him gracefully. "In return for your efforts, I will pay you handsomely. And I will help you with your…collecting problem. That is only once we find the Jedi."_

 _He took the device from her, and frowned. "We have no deal yet, bounty hunter." Turning on his heel to leave, he stopped when she called after him._

 _Her dark lips twisted into a malice grin. "Meet me at the cantina just outside of the city's spaceport, this time tomorrow. If you are not there, I will assume that you are either dead or incompetent." After a pause, she added, "And if you are neither, make no mistake. I've killed for lesser reasons than that."  
_

 _He glared at her, before growling, "I'll be there."_

 _She chortled, low. "Very good." Then, she vanished into the crowds, and was gone._

* * *

The afternoon had cooled only slightly once Obi-Wan and Maridian found their way back to her family's property. The winds had picked up, and the livestock were stabled indoors. The farm was quiet in the afternoon, and there was no movement, except for the scuffle of the eopie on the sands as they made their way down the dune.

Obi-Wan guided the eopie by the lead on its left side, Maridian walking alongside the right with a gentle hold on the animal's bridle. She had been quiet most of the journey, perhaps contemplating the events of the afternoon back at his hovel. Obi-Wan said much of nothing either, as he was ruminating on his own thoughts as they plodded along with the animal.

He was uncertain if his revelations of being a Jedi to Maridian were a mistake or not. He trusted that she would keep his secret to herself, certainly. What was a different matter altogether was how the knowledge would hold up under other circumstances should they arise. While he hoped against all hope that there would be not Imperial presence this far into Hutt Space, Obi-Wan could afford no real chance.

But, as she had kissed him standing in the kitchen of his small hovel, all reason had stopped. The very axis of the world could have frozen in place and he would not have noticed. He had been unsure of his breathing, or even if his own heart was beating inside his chest as he felt her body, feverish with uncertainty and release press against the crevice of his own and fill him so perfectly. And then, he had found himself kissing her again, which had surprised him, but left him with no shame or uncertainty. He had never tasted something so beautiful, or felt something to strong. She was different than Siri, so opposite of Satine, but so right…

He needed to meditate on these things. It was the only way he'd set them straight in his mind.

Time would tell if his sharing of his history would be a mistake or not. For right now, the total of his problems rested in her trainings, as well as her predicament with Jabba the Hutt. There had to be a way for this to be resolved. After all, he was a Jedi – problem solving was one of his specialties. At one point or another, these types of situations had demanded the entirety of the Jedi's abilities and focus.

She guided them towards the tying post just outside the family's home, and turned to him, patting the animal's neck approvingly. She smiled at him softly.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "for bringing me home. It was kind."

He dipped his head to her and removed the hood of the cloak. "I very well couldn't have let you walk, could I? Besides," he gestured with a hand, "I wanted to see you home and speak with your father." He hesitated, "But I do not think it's best to reveal all that we have…shared. At least, not yet."

She nodded, understanding his meaning. They started down the stairs into the home when the door retracted with a heavy _clang_ , Remy and Henna filling the doorway. They looked ragged and worried, and Remy's face was painted with tears. She rushed up the steps and wrapped herself around Maridian, pressing her face into her chest. Maridian held her tightly as Obi-Wan saw to the door behind them, before Remy looked up at her and sniffled.

"You're alright," She said, relieved, "We were so worried…"

Maridian nodded, and guided them down the steps again. She welcomed Henna into a side-embrace and rubbed her arm with a hand, now between the two girls as they clung to her tightly. Obi-Wan stopped at the bottom of the steps, awaiting a further invitation and watching the scene fold out before him.

"Maridian? Is that you?" The frantic voice of Bartholomew Hail overtook the family's home in a shaken but strong tone, and he hovered out of the kitchen. The arm of his chair knocked the wall, but he didn't let up until he reached his eldest daughter. He stopped before her and grabbed her hand, pulling her down to intercept in her a strong hug. "You're safe? Nothing is –"

"Yes, Papa," she calmly interjected, holding him tightly, "I'm alright. Ben brought me home well and safe." Obi-Wan watched as his embrace on his daughter tightened, and a renewed sense of duty and heroism cascaded through his soul. Though a small gesture of service, it felt good to be a hero again. Even in a small instance like this one.

The man's voice cracked. "I was so worried. After all that Talor said, I wasn't sure –"

Alarm bristled Obi-Wan's skin, taking with it the satisfaction nestled in his chest. Instead, it twisted around his gut and staked a concerned peg of angered heat in his soul. _Anger leads to hate_ , he had to remind himself, thought at his point Talor was a man he was sure the Jedi would not mind hating – at least, a little bit. Maridian pulled away from her father, and looked over her shoulder at him, her grip on her father's forearms tightening.

"Talor? What do you mean, Papa? What did he say?" Her voice was demanding, but also unsure. Obi-Wan could feel the sense of fear creep into the force, and approached to put a stilling hand on her shoulder. In the force he could feel her heartbeat raging. When her father only looked between them, obviously overwhelmed, she asked again. "Papa?"

Obi-Wan brushed aside the cloak and put a hand on Bartholomew's shoulder. "You spoke with Talor?" He remembered the hot words the man and he had engaged in some weeks ago before he'd bought the hovel with Talor's money. They had not been encouraging, and neither had his threats. Of course they didn't bother Obi-Wan, but to a lesser man, they would've been offsetting.

Bartholomew nodded, at a loss. He pegged the two daughters behind them with a worried stare, tears fresh on his face. Maridian knelt and turned, and Obi-Wan saw her eyes well up too. She shooed her sisters away with a flapping hand, as Obi-Wan guided the distraught Hail father back into the kitchen.

"Go outside, both of you," Maridian demanded strongly, "And don't come back inside until I tell you." At their blank stares, she ordered, "Now." They hustled out the door before she could tell them again, and then Maridian followed into the kitchen. She seated herself in front of her father and took his hand in her own. "Papa," she inserted, "Please. You must tell me."

He began to sob, and she shared a distraught look with Obi-Wan. He stroked his beard and put up a hand as if to silently signal her not to jump to conclusions. He pulled out a chair at the other side of Bartholomew, and seated himself. He locked eyes with the farmer and added with an edge. He understood – the calling off of his and Maridian's engagement did not go as well as planned. "Bartholomew. Maridian has told me you intended to call off her engagement with Talor. I assume it did not go well?"

He shook his head, shielding his eyes from Obi-Wan's pensive look with a hand. "No, it did not," he exhaled heavily, his shoulder sagging forward. "He will not rest until Maridian is his wife." A grief and agonizing fear pierced through the force, and Obi-Wan looked to her across the farmer. She had paled, and her eyes suddenly went void of all hope. He could feel her crushing defeat, and then looked back to Bartholomew.

"Did he threaten you?" Obi-Wan probed. His Jedi senses were going wild, everything rushing back to him. His familiar self heightened; so fresh and alive. He felt empowered, renewed, even at the hint of venturing back to his old Jedi self. "

The man nodded, grief marring his expression. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely, "in more or less words. Not directly. But his tone was warning enough." He looked up to Maridian and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I am sorry, my child."

She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek farther into his palm. "It is not your fault, Papa." When she opened them, she looked to him. They held the others stare, until she looked away and took her father's hand in her own and patted it reassuringly. "What are we going to do?" She asked bleakly.

Obi-Wan sat back, and stroked his beard. There had to be a reason behind all of this, besides the man's affections. He had never once seen Talor show any type of affection towards Maridian, and had never heard him speak of her in ways to convey that he had loved her. There had been nothing in the force, either, when Obi-Wan had probed. No, there was something else behind this – he had seen it before, during the Clone Wars, with Padmé Amidala and Rush Clovis. She had feigned affection for him to effectively spy on the Separatists, and it had worked. Obi-Wan had the feeling that this was much of the same game.

For this reason alone, Maridian couldn't be allowed anywhere unescorted. Talor posed too dangerous a threat for her, even in town with witnesses. If he was dangerous and had threatened Bartholomew to his face, he intended to keep those promises. And, Obi-Wan intended to keep his own promises – with Talor, and Jabba's men lashing out, nowhere was safe. Both had contacts in unlikely places, and Obi-Wan wouldn't chance that their contacts weren't connected to the Empire somehow. There were just too many "ifs" to be comfortable with.

If Anakin were here, he'd have some brilliantly convoluted plan on how to go about this. His former padawan had always had a knack for getting them out of sticky situations on the fly, whereas Obi-Wan had always been the tactical one of their pair. He would have to think, when Anakin would only have to act. He suddenly felt very lonely out here in Hutt Space without Anakin at his side, but pushed the grief from his mind. Anakin had forged his path in the dark side, and had rendered him to this life.

Yoda had been right – he had to guard the future, and he realized it wasn't just only Luke. It was Maridian, a force-sensitive. It was her family and the generations they promised. It was anyone who needed help – the help of not necessarily a Jedi, but a Jedi in disguise. He had his own path to forge; his own decision to make, at this moment, as Yoda had said. And right now, that involved not only Anakin's son, but the Hail family.

He spoke suddenly, turning in the chair to face the two. He propped his elbows on his knees and pressed his steeped fingers beneath his nose, before flecking a look up at Bartholomew. He might have a way to get Jabba's people out of the equation, but it would be a great risk against him and Luke and Maridian: Bail Organa, once, had promised him financial help if he should ever need it. While Obi-Wan had sworn never to contact Organa for risk of exposure, he felt he had to break his vow. This constituted and exception.

But first, he needed to think. And most often than not, that involved meditation. He stood up, Bartholomew and Maridian's eyes following him. "It's no longer safe for Maridian to venture into town unescorted. After the attack and Talor's underhanded threats, it would be unwise and unsafe," He shook his head and pulled a hand towards his chest, "I will escort you where you need to go, and see to your business in Talba. The less exposure you have to the people, the better."

Her face crinkled into a confused furrow. "But what of the cantina? I have to work –"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, I'm afraid you won't be working at the cantina. Between your work here and our lessons, I'm afraid you'll have no time, anyway." He looked to Bartholomew, "I would suggest you keep your assets close to your protection, Bartholomew. Talor is a brash man with a lot of influence in many different groups. I would not put it past him to do whatever is necessary to take what he wants." He leveled a look at Maridian. "No matter the cost."

The farmer sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "You make much sense, Kenobi," he sighed, "But I cannot ask this of you. It is too much, and is my responsibility. You have your hovel and your interests to look after. This isn't your affair."

Obi-Wan looked back to Maridian. "You let me worry about my interests," he insisted pinning her with a look. She blushed, and looked away, before biting her lower lip nervously. "There has to be a way to get Talor at his own game. And if there is, I'll find it." He nodded to Bartholomew and then moved past them to the door, Maridian following after him. Obi-Wan drew his cloak around him and turned to address her father.

"And how to you suppose you'll do that?" Bartholomew questioned sincerely.

Obi-Wan smiled at him. "There is always a way."

* * *

Just as Atonas had not hoped, he woman was at the cantina the following afternoon. She sat back at a corner table, a single drink sitting in front of her. Her delicate and pale hand encircled it, and drew it closer to her body. Amidst the loud pounding of the cantina's rowdy activity and the stale smell of bodies and liquor, he was able to identify her with a concerning dread in his stomach. Matham came up behind him.

"Go," Atonas growled over his shoulder, "I'll handle this." He hadn't failed to tell his Zabrak friend about his encounter with the mysterious female bounty hunter as they'd plotted over dinner the night before. Matham had expressed concern over her business on Tatooine and her off-world contacts. Perhaps she wasn't a bounty hunter looking for Jedi, he'd speculated, but maybe she was hired by another Clan to conspire against Jabba. She could be an assassin, sent to kill them for their failure.

"Not everyone can catch a Jedi," he'd stated simply, "That's what the Empire is for. They have people who do that. I've heard of them." Atonas had dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hands and the promise that no, this woman meant her business. She was not hired by the Empire or another Clan. She had hatred for the Jedi on a personal level, and it was evident in her tone. There was no mistaking it - she was after Jedi blood for her own accord.

Matham grunted, and did as instructed. Atonas waited for him to seat himself at the bar, and once he'd ordered a drink, the Twi'lek lackey wound his way through the overly crowded cantina crowds towards the woman in the cloak. He shouldered past individual species and shoved his way between dancers, and roughly edged past a waitress who mumbled something before spilling her tray of wares. Once he made it to the woman's table, she registered him with a chuckle before tipping her head back for a drink.

"It seems that your reputation is exaggerated," she hissed quietly, "Though still, your talents may be beneficial to me on this forsaken rock." She spat the words as if they were venom on her tongue, "Sit. We have matters to attend to." She gestured across from her, and Atonas dropped into the seat less than gracefully. Almost immediately, the same waitress stopped by their table and shot him a glare upon recognition that it was him. He rolled his eyes, ordered a Space Ale, and draped an arm around the back of the booth. He arched a brow at the woman across from him.

"So," he folded his hands on the table, "before we get any further, would you care to tell me who you are what business you want with a Jedi?"

She snapped a dark look up at him from beneath her hood. "I fail to see the relevance your questions has on the situation at hand." Her tone was flat, and cold. Atonas bristled, but was careful not to show his edge. He turned his head to give her a cautious look, before he sat back and folded his hands behind his head, careful to find his lekku.

"I like to know who I'm working for, sweetheart." He offered her his best grin, and the corner of her lips lifted into a pulling smile. The waitress returned with his drink, and he tossed her a cavalier wink. She rolled her eyes and stomped off, and he intercepted his drink. "You must work for the Empire, if you're after a Jedi. Everyone knows the Empire is hot after looking for them."

She shook her head. "I work for no one other than my own interests. Let it suffice to say that my interests with the Jedi are purely...personal." Then, she released her glass and slowly raised her hands to draw back the hood of her cloak, letting it fall behind her head carefully. Atonas took in the sight of her face carefully, studying the details, and tried not to gulp helplessly.

She was a Dathomirian, and an evil looking one at that. Her pale skin was intricately detailed with violent colored tattooing, and her head was perfectly round and bald to the point of glowing. She reminded Atonas of the moon, in her quiet strength and deep eyes. He could see darkness riddled in them, as well as an evil that he could not possibly imagine possessing. He'd never encountered anyone with such a brisk and cold appearance. He stopped mid-drink when she smirked at him and sighed heavily. He tossed back a drink to busy his hands.

"Well," he inserted quickly, "as much as I'd like to help you, bounty hunter, I know of no Jedi." Deliberately he left out the encounter with the Hail girl and the incident. Though he still wasn't able to recall what had properly happened, he had the sense that it would be something the Empire would pay a hefty price to know about. But, he knew of Jedi on Tatooine if he were brutally honest, and he was. Especially with this woman. "There haven't been any Jedi on Tatooine since the Clone Wars."

She glared at him, the corner of her dark lips pulling down into a weighty frown. "Surely you don't know everyone on Tatooine to make such a bold statement," she hissed. Atonas' stomach dropped, and a cold sweat began to spread on his skin. He didn't appreciate the way this woman was pinning his very soul to the seat beneath him. She seemed to be scouring his very mind with only her eyes, and he could feel the dark weight spread over his mind like a blanket. "There must be people who exhibit some strange...presence about them, hm?"

None that he knew of, at this moment. When he looked up at her and shook his head, it was only a moment before a clenching and electric pain shot through his body and exploded in the back of his mind. Hot pressure suddenly erupted in his more sensitive...area, and a searing pain rocketed up his spine. He dropped his drink from the table, and tried to scream as the pain closed in his core. It was unspeakable, this hold on him - it was painful and hot and cold all at once and sent jarring spikes of heated electricity throughout his entire body. He was paralyzed in pain and fear. He drug his eyes up to her, and found her dementedly smiling.

She spitted her drink in one hand. The other was enclosed in a soft fist, with her elbow resting on the table as she pinned him with savage eyes. Atonas was finding it conclusively hard to breathe, and it was having a hard time making his brain function. He recalled she was looking for a Jedi and not at all pleased that he didn't know of any. Instead, he kneaded his fists into the seat beneath him and let his head fall back against the booth's back, puffing out a desperate breath of carbon dioxide in hopes of drawing air into his lungs. When none came, the pain intensified and the clench tightened, and he squeaked in horror.

This woman may have wanted to find a Jedi, but she was not one. He didn't know _what_ she was. All Atonas knew was that she had a savage hold on a delicate subject, and he was on the verge of losing consciousness. Blackness pulled at the corner of his eyes, and his mind felt as if it were melting down from the sheer pain. Sweat profusely ran over his skin, all while she sat by nonchalantly. He watched her fisted hand.

"Still no recollection of anyone, Atonas? Hm?" Her tone was darkly seductive, and she released the cup from her hand on the table and gently nudged it away. She sat back and examined her nails, her other hand till in a gentle fist. She wasn't even trying to appear remorseful. In fact, she seemed flippant, or dismissive, he wasn't sure which. She pinned him with another look and he released a shaky squeak. "No newcomers worth investigating?"

Newcomers. Yes. The name he'd heard around Talba rocketed to his brain and exploded on his tongue in a million different tones. He couldn't hardly think, it hurt so much. His face exploded in heat, and he pinched his eyes such at her grip tightened savagely. He moaned and felt his stomach rise to his throat. He was going to throw up, the heat so unbearable. Instead, he opened his eyes and rounded his mouth to speak, the words trying to come on his tongue. The pounding music of the cantina was in sync with his heart. The pulse in his ears was deafening.

"B...Ben," he breathed, groaning through clenched teeth. He rolled his head on the back of the booth, as if it would level the pain in his mind. "B..Ben Kenobi..." he rasped, "...Talba. New to...Talba..."

At this, her eyes snapped up at him, and her lips maliciously twisted into a pleased smile. "Of course. Ben Kenobi." She shook her head, took another slow drink to the point where Atonas was certain an eternity had passed them, by and finally nodded at him. She chuckled. "Your information is most pleasing. Well done." Nonchalantly, she released her fist and the unseen grip released between his legs. The initial pain evaporated, and he collapsed out of the booth's seat, gasping on the floor.

A numb throb coursed through his body as he watched her pull the hood up and slip away from the booth.

* * *

Author's Note: **The Rattataki character was changed to Dathomirian, as per a mistake of mine. It is corrected as of this update.**


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

After her meeting with the Hutt lackey, she made her way back to the spaceport. Activating her navicomputer, she brought up coordinates for another backwater planet. She considered the planet and read its schematics passively before logging the coordinates into the ship. There was an unsettling in the force that the proper time to catch the Jedi Master was not now. She'd come back in a few rotations.

It was time to see how her other connections were faring on Alderaan – see how the Senator Bail Organa was getting along in his new role within the Galactic Empire. If anyone knew anything about Kenobi, it would be Organa.

Kenobi would wait. It wasn't his time.

* * *

Bottleneck slung through his fingers lazily, Talor Jukkuun meandered through the Mos Eisley streets away from the cantina, a drunken wobble to his legs. The cool air settling in over the desert town was a relief, and cleared the grimy sweat of bodies and alcohol from the cantina from not only his skin, but his mind.

He'd been groveling around Mos Eisley for a week now, since Maridian's father had dissolved their engagement. Unwilling to travel back to Talba and see to the livery, he'd set up shop in one of the many open buildings in this city. He'd done some business, but had mostly withered away in the cantina on the remaining credits he'd borrowed from Jabba. He would never pay it back anyway, with the engagement broken – better to die a man having lived his last days happy than indebted and miserable.

Business was so as the winter months began to settle over Tatooine – farmers spent most of their times setting up their barns and their herds than selling them. Usually Talor himself would be settling in his shop and his sheds for the long winters months and preparing what livestock he had for selling in Anchorhead come spring.

The streets tonight were hardly full as the wind whipped strongly. Litter skittered across the streets, and the canopy's over shops and homes flapped noisily as darkness was settling over the village into a inky black. Talor's thinned cloak whipped around his booted ankles, stirring up tidbits of sand, but he didn't care. Besides the howl of the wind, there was hardly a sound. As he tromped along and rounded the corner, the silence was interrupted by the rowdy calls and laughter bursting from the building to his left.

It was a high, two-story building with windows on the second floor only, and a large passageway for a door, draped with an elegant looking fabric weaved with stunning colors. It smelled beautifully of perfume and incense, but tinged slightly with the stench of bodies and alcohol. Talor stopped his meandering, tilted back a drink, and craned his head to look up the building. Music bombarded his senses.

The brothel. Mos Eisley was famous for them, but he knew this one well enough. It was owned and operated by Jabba, who had only the most beautiful women and talented dancers sported on Tatooine. It was a lofty business that bragged hefty prices, but was guaranteed a good time – Talor had frequented it often enough. He'd given that up, however, when he'd learned he was to be engaged to Maridian. There had been no point in tarnishing his reputation.

He had wanted to make Maridian a good husband. As he sloshed back another drink from the bottle of ale, he felt his chest pull tight. He had never meant the girl harm, but he hadn't exactly ever considered how their marriage would benefit her in the long run. He, of course, would pay off his debts and become the largest livery entrepreneur in the terriroty. They'd live like kings – he'd have a long line of children to carry on his name in his old age. Not to mention the fact that she was beautiful – that didn't hurt matters.

The girl could live in luxury and have everything she'd never had. And, he'd take care of her – she wouldn't starve; have the finest clothes, never know the cold. Yes, he'd make a fine husband for her, indeed.

His mind drifted to the newcomer, Ben Kenobi. Her beauty was lost on him either, as he'd recalled the argument he'd had with the drifter as he'd given the man his coin-purse. Talor silently cursed himself for not putting anything in legal writing, as now he had no leverage. He mumbled an expletive, then waved off the idea of Kenobi with a lazy hand. The man was a careless wanderer, and would be gone soon enough. There was no way Bartholomew would allow Maridian to settle with Ben – he was practically a stranger. There was still hope for Talor's marrage to the girl. Yes. Still a chance – and, where there was a chance, there was hope.

Talor staggered past the cantina, and after awhile he found himself outside of Jabba's. He should just go in and turn himself over to the Hutt and throw himself on his sword. Better than drowning in his own thoughts. If he couldn't pay off his debts, it would be better to be a slave than rot in the desert. The idea constricted his throat and soured the ale in his stomach as he drew back another drink.

He didn't hear the shadow come up behind him, but jolted when a strong hand clapped on his shoulder and whirled him around. Talor pulled the bottle of ale to his chest and reeled back to hit the man, but a strong hand enveloped over his fist and held it back. Drunkenness had effected the livery-man's equilibrium, so he staggered backwards in the sand at the resistance. Finally, the man released him and stepped into the solitary light over Jabba's building – Talor immediately recognized him as Matham, Atonas' counterpart. Atonas sauntered out from behind him, arms crossed before him.

Talor wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and gave a disgusted grunt. "Atonas," he snarled, then squared his shoulders back.

Atonas "tsked" him, then shook his head. He looked rather pleased with himself, Talor thought. "Greetings, Talor. How fortunate that I found you here in Mos Eisley. I was wondering if I'd have to venture out into nowhere to find you or not," he clucked his tongue, "but seems fate has brought you to me. A funny twist of events."

Talor rolled his eyes and downed another drink from the bottle, chuckling. "Fate is a nasty whore," he bumbled like the drunken fool he was, emptying the bottle down his throat. It burned his throat and warmed his stomach, but he didn't care. He wiped the spittle from his mouth and leveled a cavalier smirk at the Twi'lek. "But, since you're looking for me…here I am. What can I do for you, boys?"

Atonas shared a look with Matham, a brow arching before looking back to the livery-man. "We wanted to congratulate you on your engagement," he said brightly, before taking a step forward and gesturing with a wave of his hand, "and also on your…inheritance."

Talor's stomach pitted, and he swallowed a hard lump. "Well," he pitched the bottle off the side, where it landed silently in the sands. "I'd say thank you, but things haven't exactly gone according to plan."

If it had been viable, Talor could've cut the tension with a butterknife. Atonas' face wrinkled into a furious glare, and Matham grunted under his breath at him. Talor's face warmed a bright red. "What do you mean, haven't gone to plan, Talor?" Atonas' voice rose an octave, and he chuckled warningly.

He put up his hands. "The engagement has been dissolved," he shook his head, "but not to worry. I'm working on it." _How exactly is step one._ He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Jabba will have his money."

"You fool!" Atonas screamed, then lunged at him. The smaller man grabbed the front of his tunic and balled it in his fist, and he shoved a finger in Talor's face. Surprised, he took half a step back, but the man didn't release him. Matham was right over his shoulder if Talor would try anything. The thought had crossed his mind. "Don't you realize?" Atonas said warningly, "You're going to get us _all_ killed?"

Talor arched a brow. "The thought had crossed my mind," he drawled. The Twi'lek's face wrinkled at his alcohol tainted breath and he laughed, "does that scare you, lackey?" He taunted him now, and chuckled again, Matham growling a warning at him in his throat. He shot a look over to the Zabrak and snorted.

Then, a moment of realization dawned on Atonas' face and he released Talor's shirt. Talor backpedabled away from the pair and brushed off the front of his tunic, shaking his head. The world was beginning to spin slightly now, and his stomach felt sour and full of poisonous ale. He thought he might throw up, but didn't think too much of it as Matham and Atonas shared a look.

Abruptly, Atonas gestured for Matham to intercept him. "Bring him to the house," he snarled, "there might be a way we can salvage this and save all our skins." Talor's eyes darted between them as Matham stepped towards him and grabbed his forearm.

He jerked back, wrenching away. "Hey!" He hollered as Atonas turned on his heel and they began stalking through the sands. The wind tore at his cloak now as more sand kicked up into his face. The Zabrak nor the Twi'lek seemed concerned, and Talor made no motion to stop the incoming winds seeming to rip at his face. Instead, he drunkenly staggered as Matham led him through Mos Eisley. Sometime later, he was guided into a building and tossed into a chair.

"Sober up," Atonas said from the shadows with an agitated snarl, "because we've got some planning to do if any of us want to live."

That was the last thing spoken between the three before he drifted off into an unconscious stupor.

* * *

 _"Struggle with attachment like your Master do you, Obi-Wan. Aware of this you should be…."_

 _He recalled Master Yoda's words that day to him in the Temple. The battle of Geonosis had killed many of the Jedi, and rendered many more injured – including himself and Anakin. After he had emerged from his healing trance, Yoda had come to visit him in the Halls of Healing._

 _That was when he had instructed Obi-Wan to end the relationship between Padmé Amidala and Anakin, for the sake of the Jedi. Of course he hadn't wanted to interfere in that area, but as Anakin's master, he knew it was a necessary and appropriate request. With war on the horizon and recover from the loss of his hand, Anakin would not need the distraction of navigating his emotions with the Naboo senator, Yoda had claimed._

 _Then, he said that Obi-Wan still grappled with the idea of attachment himself. It had rendered him speechless, and to say he'd been beside himself not only on account of medical injury would've been the understatement of the millennium. He'd gaped at his master as if he'd sprouted another green head on his shoulders as the statement sunk into his head. At the time, it'd been a preposterous idea, though he had enough common sense not to say so._

 _But now, he didn't find Yoda's statement false. In his time on Tatooine, he'd developed more attachment than he'd ever come across in all his years at the Temple. Sure he'd harbored feelings for Siri in his younger years, and then Satine during the war, but never had his feelings been so…strong. Even the force seemed to beckon him forward in his attachments instead of pull him back. He felt as if he were drowning._

 _He wasn't sure_ what _he was feeling anymore. He desperately needed guidance, and longed for Qui-Gon's council. His master would know what to do in situations like these – he always did. But, then again, he also knew that Qui-Gon had developed attachments himself even while in the Order. He'd loved another Jedi, and hadn't regretted it. It had furthered his love and pursuit of the light and the force; had made him stronger._

 _It hadn't been wrong._

 _Only, Obi-Wan would find that out later, after Qui-Gon's death. He'd never shared it with him, which felt like betrayal. Qui-Gon hadn't been comfortable enough to teach Obi-Wan that lesson, or reveal that secret. He wondered how many other secrets he'd kept, but then dismissed the judgment – he himself had kept secrets from the Order, even now, when the Order was destroyed…_

 _"Obi-Wan?" came the present call, "Obi-Wan, it's me. You in here?"_

 _Yoda's voice faded after that, as he was jarred out of his meditation immediately. He slowly came out of the light and stood on the brink of the present, and shook off the stiffness. It only took him a moment to gather himself before he went to intercept her; now content._

 _He had his answer. At least, for right now._

* * *

"Try to relax, would you?"

"I _am_ relaxed, Obi-Wan."

His heavy sigh beside her triggered Maridian to pop open an eye, a smile fighting to part her lips. She lost the ensuing battle of wills and a giggle erupted in her throat when he opened an eye to give her a superior look. She playfully socked his shoulder and he relaxed, stretching his arms over his head.

Today they were outside the back of the hovel, where Obi-Wan had cleaned up a small balcony type area that overlooked the crevice south of his small farm. The suns were high in the sky and it was warm, despite the coming winter, and there was hardly any wind. It caused for a perfect day outside, so when she'd arrived early that morning for her Jedi training, he had expressed interest in meditating outside.

Together they'd been training for roughly two weeks since her father had dissolved her engagement with Talor. Since then, she the only time she'd left the farm was to venture to Obi-Wan's hovel, which was almost entirely cleaned up and repaired. He had everything in order and had sold off whatever scrap had been laying around to passing Jawa's. She'd helped him in the afternoons, as they went over teachings and lessons.

Cleaning up the farm had been the perfect opportunity for Maridian to learn how to properly use the force. She had voiced concerns about it to Obi-Wan, but he had reassured that they were far enough away from prying eyes and senses to be detected. Nevertheless, they only practiced a little each day- at first she had started with only a simple rock. But, as the days progressed, she had moved on to moving crates and larger objects.

Obi-Wan had said she was more developed in the force than he had anticipated. She learned quickly how to manipulate objects and fine-tuned her ability to push and pull objects. While simplistic, he had assured her that these were necessary skills. They focused less on moving objects and more on sensing danger and meditation in their trainings, often spending hours in silence and quiet reflection.

Maridian found this most distracting. She didn't do well sitting in silence of hours and hours in one position – it was difficult to quiet herself and find that inner source of peace and warmth, where the light could envelope her and seem to take her from her present surroundings. She was able to do it sporadically, but most often she stood on the brink only to be wretched away back into the world around her. Obi-Wan said it came with time and practice, something that she had been deprived of. Most padawan learners, he'd said, learn how to meditate from birth and infancy. Since she'd been deprived of this, it was like working backwards.

Above her, Obi-Wan stretched his neck turned to face her on the balcony's wall. He'd taken to meditation on the edge of the balcony, preferring to sit staunch and still in perfect form and posture to overlook the crevice. He'd encouraged Maridian to start on the floor of the balcony and trust her instincts – she'd know when she was ready to balance on the edge. The same came with their balancing technique – he walked beside her and held her by the hand as they balanced on the stone rail of the balcony. Now she was able to do it blindfolded, with him guiding her. It frustrated her that she wasn't learning fast enough. Frustrated, and partially worried, her.

He'd said it would take time, and to be patient.

Her shoulders slumped forward in frustrated defeat and she reached up with run her fingers through her hair. He chuckled above her. "You're frustrated," he observed, resting his hands on his knees, where his legs were crossed beneath him. She shot him a sideways look and he smiled at her, "And you need to relax."

She huffed and stood, stretching her legs. They were numb from sitting and stiff, but she took a step to the balcony's rail and pressed her palms on the edge, looking down into the crevice. Obi-Wan slipped off the wall to stand beside her, and she felt her heart swell. Immediately she crushed the desire to wrap her arms through his and get lost in the view below them – they'd already agreed to keep their feelings for one another under wraps for the sake of their training. And, besides that, Obi-Wan was still navigating what attachment meant for him. Maridian respected his request, and quelled her desire.

But, while she quelled it, her feelings for him steadily grew stronger as she spent more and more time with him. She could not help but get lost in his voice as he would talk to her about the teachings of the Jedi and guide her through her techniques. His touch was almost electric, and sent a spiraling currency of heat throughout her entire body. Each ministration was welcome more and more each time he was near, and she began to crave his company. Something inside of her soared every time he was near, and Maridian found herself more often than not daydreaming about what their life could be during their meditations. She wondered frequently if he could sense that, but it ultimately didn't bother her.

She sighed and hung her head. "I know," she replied heavily, "I was just…distracted." She knew good and well why she was distracted today – this week was a rather important one, as it was the beginning of the winter months and breeding season for their livestock and the stock around Talba. Every farmer within forty miles would be in Talba today, celebrating and making deals. It was customary for her to go into town with her sister's – usually she made bargains with Talor, but since he hadn't returned to Talba, she'd have to scout out the competition and strike a deal with someone else for breeding rights. What ensued was a large celebration, as well as a profitable evening for business.

This also meant going into Talba, which she had not been keen to do since the ordeal with Talor. Her father rarely let her go anywhere before the engagement had dissolved, and now he was just adamant to the point of overprotective. He sent her sister's with her everywhere, besides Ben's, and even then he required her to check in before and after she'd arrived. He was paranoid Talor would make good on his threat. And, while he was paranoid, Maridian was just plain annoyed.

But, with her debt to Jabba hanging over her head, there wouldn't be much celebrating for Maridian and her family. Her meditations often consisted of visions of the attack, as well as her family being hauled away into slavery either by the Empire or by Jabba's people. Visions that, Obi-Wan had said, were signs. Together they'd figure out way to keep them from happening. At least, that's what he'd promised.

Obi-Wan had done well to see to his promises to not only her, but her father. He escorted her into town when necessary, but that had only been once in the two weeks. He too didn't like the idea of her going anywhere unescorted. Whereas her father was more concerned about Talor, Obi-Wan was concerned about her force abilities and lack of training. He often reminded her of her attack and strictly warned her against another incident like it – he did not want to take chances on her safety, especially when she owed Jabba so much money. He was likely to have Imperial contacts, and her venturing alone was not worth the risk.

And, of course, she imagined he didn't want anything to happen to her either, though he most often left it unsaid. She could read it in his eyes, however, and had come to recognize it in the force.

He raked his hand through his hair, only to cross his arms in front of him to stroke his beard, as he did when he was thinking. She'd come to recognize the action, and found it slightly humorous. His brow wrinkled, and the corners of his mouth pulled tight in contemplation. His eyes were riddled with thought and seemed to wander off when he did this, and today they were cemented on the crevice sinking below the hovel.

"I understand," he said quietly, "there is a lot to be distracted about these days." He cut her a sideways look, and she smiled up at him weakly. Something sparkled in his eye, and he turned to face her, leaning a hip against the balcony's railing. He offered her a teasing smile, and then reached out to touch one of the curls along her face, running them through his fingers lightly.

She stepped closer to him, and tentatively reached for his hand. He intercepted the gesture and interlaced their fingers, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Maridian looked up to him and he brushed aside one of her curls, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. This was the most intimate contact they'd had since the day he had kissed her, and it was kicking her senses into overdrive. Her throat suddenly went dry and she could hear her pulse in her ears, and ever nerve in her body flamed with heat. Goosebumps prickled to life on her skin as his eyes scanned her own.

He broke the silence between them that was as deep as the crevice below. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," he started, quietly. He looked to their hands and encased them with his other, "about us."

She nodded slowly, understanding. Her heart sparked. It was getting harder to level her breathing. Maridian had imagined this conversation a thousand times – she'd seen it in her dreams. She'd been waiting for him to one day come to her with an answer, with insight. It had been painstaking to wait, but she had been content to do so in his presence. Really she'd been longing to hear the words since she'd met him all those months ago, when she'd been a precautious and unsure girl. Now she longed to hear them as a much different woman – a woman who had the love of a man.

He sighed heavily, and looked down to the crevice. "It was forbidden by the Jedi to form attachments of any kind," he started, "it was said to be distracting and dangerous. It's why we gathered our young at such an early age, before they could form conscious attachment to their parents. It's a large part of what happened to Anakin." His voice quieted, as his voice trailed off.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded, understandingly. "But you said Anakin was afraid of losing his wife, and his children. He made his decision out of fear, because he didn't have any other option."

He looked back to her. "Yes. You're right. Still, had Anakin not surrendered his heart to Padmé and their children and trusted the force, he would not have acted so brashly." He heaved a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, "If Anakin had come to me sooner, I could've helped him. I could have stopped all of this…"

Her brow furrowed as she heard his voice dip dangerously close to cracking. He let his gaze drop to their hands, and he squeezed them tighter. She met his hold and encased her free hand over his own. "You can't hold yourself responsible for Anakin's decisions. He could have chosen to defeat the Chancellor and go another way. He could've trusted the force." She reached up to cup her palm across his cheek, "It was not Anakin's attachment that caused his undoing, Obi-Wan. It was his fear, and his lack of faith in the Jedi." She added quietly, "And that is nothing to blame yourself for. A man must make his own decisions, and Anakin made his own. Do not put faith in one and abandon the other – there can be balance in both. Don't make the same mistake Anakin did."

He looked up to stare into her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. Maridian could see him processing her words. She could see he needed to meditate on her statement, and after a moment, she gave him a quirky smile and patted his hand. Then, in a quick move, she kissed his bearded cheek and backpedaled towards the door, beckoning him inside with a jerk of her head towards the hovel.

"Now, come inside and rest," she teased him, "I think you've learned enough for one day, _Master_." He smiled at her jibe and they shared a laughed, and he closed the door behind them as she moved into the kitchen to start tea, as was their ritual. Usually at the end of every training day they parted ways over tea.

He followed her into the kitchen. "I suppose you're right," he passed by her for the canteen above the cooling box, letting a hand gently slide along her hip as he did so. The action sent a jolt of pleasurable electricity down her spine, and he moved by her again, towards the door. "It is rather exhausting being lectured by the student when one is so accustomed to being the teacher."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, shaking her head. "Just go and get the water, Master Kenobi, and then we'll discuss teaching roles when you get back."

He grinned at her, and slipped out the door to do her bidding.

As she was gathering the leaves from the top of the cooling box, Maridian glanced around the small hovel and felt oddly comforted by its progress. As they'd cleaned and separated junk from usable wares, Obi-Wan had acquired a decent amount of furnishings for his new home. It was still sparse, but sufficient. He'd traded the old vaporator outside for indoor furnishings, and her father had promised him one of their older models, which they had finished installing the day before. Overall, the hovel was quaint, and Maridian didn't find herself opposed to it. It suited Obi-Wan well.

He came back inside, handed the canteen to her, and took a seat at the table. She began heating the water in a clay kettle, and then turned to join him. He considered her a moment as she absently twirled a curl around her finger, looking out the hovel's small window.

Obi-Wan broke the silence, again. "I was wondering if it would be too presumptuous of me to take you into Talba tomorrow for the celebration," his statement signaled her attention, and she cemented it on him. He sat back and crossed his leg over the other, resting his folded hands on his knees, looking distinguished. He looked at her. "Or is there a way of going about that here?"

She smiled at him, leaning her arms on the table to cock a brow. "That depends," she rolled her eyes to the ceiling teasingly.

"On what?" He questioned seriously, brow wrinkling in curiosity.

She giggled. "If you're planning on taking me out of duty or pleasure." She sat back and draped her leg over the other, mimicking his actions, instead brushing off her leggings with a hand. "Because if it is out of duty, I'm sure Papa would be fine. But, if it's out of pleasure," she cocked a brow, "that's an entirely different thing altogether."

At her teasing tone, he rolled his eyes and smiled. Then, he dropped his leg from other the other and leaned across the table, raising a brow to smile at her cavalierly. Maridian imagined that he would've been quite the debonair on Coruscant indeed, even as a Jedi Master, because right now her heart was flooding with emotion under his teasing look.

He chortled. "Well, then perhaps to the wandering eye it would be out of duty, but to us, it would be an entirely different thing altogether." He tossed her a wink, and she felt a blush start up her neck. He seemed satisfied that he'd made her face red, and sat back in his chair.

"I hope not all Jedi were as teasing as you," she said, "because that would be a travesty indeed."

A moment of silence fell between them and his gaze dropped. It took her only an instant to realize her mistake, and she gasped, covering her mouth quickly. She reached across the table for her hand and gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan. I –"

He shook his hand and took her hand in his own, and patted it reassuringly. He offered her a small smile and dimissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "It's alright, Maridian. There is no need to apologize. Better to weep not for the past and focus on the future." After that, he released her hand.

She got up to intercept the tea when it started to steam. Preparing two cups, she set one at her place and then the other before him. Before she could retreat, he grabbed her wrist and locked gazes with her, holding her attention for a moment. She felt as if her heart would cave into her lungs. She tried to read his expression, but couldn't.

Then, he released her hand, and drank his tea.


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

"I'm not sure. You're certain that will _work_?"

It hadn't taken long for Talor to sober up from his drunken stupor the night before. He'd awoke in Atonas and Matham's small hut nestled along the outskirts of Mos Eisley, which was poorly furnished and kept even worse. It smelled of body, rotting food, and alcohol, but what most bothered Talor the fact that there were no neighbors– if Atonas and Matham had wanted to kill him, no one would've batted an eye.

Which, Talor was fairly certain they were going to kill him. Just not yet.

He nudged aside the cold cup of caf in front of him, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table top. He cupped his hands over his nose and released a heavy sigh –Atonas and Matham may have been Jabba's lackeys, but they were _not_ his brightest ones.

At least they'd managed the deal with the bounty hunter. Talor was relieved to know they had a back up plan, since everyone's attempts to save their skins before Jabba had apparently failed. Now, with a professional on their hands, they were _guaranteed_ success – Atonas and Matham would be in good with their boss, and Talor would have Maridian and his wealth. Yes, it would be perfect. All so _gloriously_ perfect.

He rolled his eyes up to pin the two men across the table an irritated look. They'd discussed this plan three times already, and it was getting late. He'd already decided to go to Talba for the celebration – there were deals to be brokered; money to be had.

" _Yes,"_ he hissed finally, "It will _work._ It's as I said. I'll bring the girl to Mos Eisley, and Ben will follow." He rolled his eyes, "Your bounty hunter friend is interested in Ben, correct?"

Atonas leaned across the table, nodding slowly. His lekku twitched. He glared. "She is _not_ my friend." He added, "She wants this Ben character, yes. He's…important to her, I guess." Talor could sense there was something deeper brewing in the man's statement that he was being vague about, but he didn't press.

Matham added slowly, after a quiet pause settled over the room, "And you're sure this guy will follow your girl?"

Atonas' brow piqued. "Seems very fast and loose," he mumbled, "like it won't work."

Talor huffed. "It will work. Ben seems extremely protective of her. And she's infatuated with him, so I'm certain he'll come after her." He sat back and lifted his hands, offering the two men a sly grin. "It's perfect. I'll get my girl and Jabba's money, and you'll get the guy for your bounty hunter friend. Simple as that." He stood, scraping the chair back. "Now, if you'll excuse me – I have go get back to Talba. I've been away too long, and business is business, after all."

"Yeah," Atonas cocked, "business is business."

Talor nodded at them both, grinned, and stalked out of the hut to escort himself back to Talba.

* * *

The smell of animal perhaps would have been overbearing to Maridian if she were not used of it in the heat of the day as she tended livestock in the barn, but after years of constant exposure and growing accustomed to the work, she paid it no mind. She was just taking the lead off the male she'd been escorting to and from the back corral when a blast of heavy, outside air whisked into the barn.

Maridian initiated the ray shield of the barn's pen, and it came up with a hesitant sparkle, solidly falling into place with a hiss. The panel flashed red, indicating it had locked securely, and Maridian began looping the lead around her arm as Henna closed the barn's door behind her. She brushed he sand off the sleeve of her dress as she approached, Maridian watching her. These last weeks, her sister had darkened from exposure in the sun; blonde hair almost the color of the sands now. As usual, she was a radiant beauty, even covered in sand from head to foot. Maridian was suddenly grieved that her sister's singing career in Talba had nosedived because of her, and she turned away to replace the tack in the corner of the barn.

"You'll never guess who just pulled up on Papa's old speeder," she sang, waltzing behind Maridian. She swung up on the workbench, crossed her feet at the ankles, and began examining her calloused and chipped nails. "I never thought in a million years Ben would have that thing running, but he does."

Maridian chuckled, and her lips parted into a smile. "So much for letting me guess," she mumbled, before straightening up the face of the workbench. She replaced a myriad of items before she felt Henna's weighty stare on her. She looked up to her sister, turned to lean against the bench, and crossed her arms in front of her. "Do I have something on my face?"

Henna shook her head. "No," she shrugged, "it's just that every time anyone mentions Ben Kenobi you light up like the suns at midday." She smiled softly and looked away, her gaze now distant.

Maridian smiled again. "He is a good friend," she started. Maridian was hesitant to elaborate – from what her sisters understood, she ventured to Obi-Wan's hovel most everyday to help him repair it and start up livestock, not to study the Jedi ways and the force. She'd been strictly instructed not to speak of details to anyone, and it upset her in more ways than one. She hated keeping secrets from her sisters, but then again, she'd kept many. It, however, didn't make it any easier.

Henna dropped her eyes to the floor almost immediately. "You're in love with him," she said quietly. Maridian rolled her lower lip inward to chew on it carefully – she'd know that Henna had liked Obi-Wan immediately upon meeting him, and had taken to infatuation with him. She released a slow sigh.

"Where would you get an idea like that?" She didn't deny it, but she didn't claim it, either. Her relationship with Obi-Wan, at the moment, was strictly studious. At least for the most part. She clapped a hand on Henna's knee and squeezed it reassuringly. "He's a wonderful man, Henna. And he's a very, very good friend. He's taken very good care of us." She heaved a sigh before sidling up close to her sister and looping her arm through hers. Henna immediately dropped down from the bench and they began crossing the barn.

Henna nodded, her eyes still plastered to the floor. "But he loves you," she added quietly, "everyone can see it. Papa even says so." She slumped her shoulders forward, and sighed heavily. "He's asked to accompany you into Talba tonight for the celebration." When she didn't continue, Maridian smiled weakly and pulled her sister close as they exited the barn.

"I know," she confirmed, "he asked me if he could."

Henna looked up at her, the barn door sliding closed behind them heavily. The heat immediately set a burden on Maridian's shoulders, and she could feel the sweat begin to pool on her skin beneath her tunic.

She smiled weakly. "You're very lucky," she dropped her voice into a quiet tone as they approached the house, bypassing Obi-Wan's speeder. "He's a wonderful man, like you said. Everyone loves him." She sighed again, looking away. "He's the first decent man to come to Talba in a great while."

Maridian flattened her lips and stopped at the door. She spun Henna to face her, and plopped her hands on her shoulder's to give them a reassuring squeeze. She raised her brows and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Don't put the cart before the beast, Henna. You are still very young. A man will come around soon enough. A good man, like Ob—Ben." She caught her mistake immediately and cocked a brow, "You're not an old maid yet."

Henna gave her a grim smile. "I know," she said quietly.

Maridian took he chin between her fingers. "You're a beautiful young woman, Henna. I am so proud of you. You have so much potential." She gave her an apologetic smile, "And I am sorry you can't sing at the cantina anymore. I wish it had worked out. If only I hadn't –"

She shrugged a shoulder, "It's not your fault. There are worse things that could happen besides me not singing." Henna then punched the controls and the doors parted heavily, and offered her a brighter smile. "Someday I'll sing again. And someday Remy will study art, and someday Papa will be well. Someday we'll all be better off." She swung inside the hovel and began heading down the stairs, "We just have to have a bit more hope and hold out a bit longer, that's all."

Maridian watched her disappear into their home, with a sweet greeting to Obi-Wan and their family before Maridian entered and closed the doors behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, she brushed off her tunic and joined the company in the living room, stepping down into the sunken area. She moved to her father, who's chair was sitting beside the small couch where Remy was sitting cross-legged beside Obi-Wan. He was busy studying the piece her sister had been working on all afternoon.

He shook his head, baffled. "It is truly beautiful, Remy. Brilliant. I haven't seen such fine work in a great deal of time – you have quite an eye for a young lady." He handed the piece back to her and shifted on the couch beside her, "There are a great deal of people in the Core Worlds that would pay to see your work, I'm sure. A few years of education and I'm certain you would be recognized."

The girl beamed at him, as Maridian placed a hand on her father's shoulder. He reached up to pat it and smiled at her. Remy shrugged, taking the pad back. "Maybe," she said, cocking her head to the side, "but right now, Papa needs me at home more than the Core Worlds need my art."

Obi-Wan, puzzled by her statement, remained quiet. His eyes flecked up to Maridian, and she smile at him warmly. The corner of his mouth lifted, and his pale eyes came to life with the familiar sparkle she'd come to love. Her father squeezed her hand before looking up at her, taking her hand to guide her in front of him.

"Come here, girl," her father gestured in front of his chair. She obeyed, and he smiled at her lovingly. "Now, tell me – how do you propose going about business tonight in Talba?"

She raised a brow and crossed her arms. "The same as I've always done – I'll make a deal with the Lars' to cross their pasture, same as always. Then I'll bargain with Issik to sell wares, and Thor for the usual head. Nothing new I don't think."

Her father seemed ill amused, and gave her a flat look. "Maridian…"

Getting his meaning, she crossed her arms and smirked at him. Then, she eyeballed Obi-Wan and remembered Henna's statement. Now the girl was standing behind the couch, hands on Remy's shoulders, smiling at her lightly.

"Well," she started, "I'd guess I'll –"

Obi-Wan suddenly rose, folding his arms in front of him. His tawdry cloak enveloped him, but she noticed he was wearing the same tunic he had the first time he had come for dinner; it was nicer than his old clothing. She also saw that he'd slicked his hair, and trimmed his beard, which appealed to her immediately. When he stepped towards her to stand at her side before her father, she felt her stomach burst with excitement, as it always did when he was near. Her father looked up at the man from his chair and folded his arms in front of him, seemingly to intimidate. But, the glint in his eyes gave away all worry.

"Your father and I have already discussed it," Obi-Wan smiled at her knowingly, pulling a side glance from her. Henna was grinning now. "I'm to escort you into Talba and see to your business with you and your sisters. We can take no chances, with what's happened."

Her father nodded, gesturing with a hand. Maridian nodded slowly. "He's right, my child. It's too dangerous to send you and the girls off alone, not with everything that's happened." He folded his arms again, as if closure on the subject had been made.

"That is, if you would give me the distinct honor." Obi-Wan turned to her, and she turned to face him. His hand appeared from within the sleeves of his cloak and reached for her own, gently taking it. Before she knew what was happening, he kissed the back of her hand delicately before folding his other overtop.

She was half persuaded to ask him what had come over him, but she hesitated. She couldn't dare expose his secret with present company involved and staring heavily at them, so she swallowed back her surprise and placed her hand atop his. She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand tightly. She couldn't help but fully let herself get lose in his eyes, and she felt herself release to him in the force, as she had before.

She nodded. "Of course I will," she smiled at him, and heat warmed her skin as he grinned back her brightly with a boyish grin. He stepped back, released her hand, and she turned to face her father. Moving to him, she kissed his temple, gestured to Henna and Remy, and looked back to Obi-Wan. "We'll be along shortly."

He nodded, and bowed slightly; hands folded in front of him. "I have no doubts."

With a dip of her head, Maridian retreated with her two sisters, feeling every bit the spectacle she knew Obi-Wan had made her out to be.

* * *

They emerged shortly, dressed appropriately for their night in Talba. Obi-Wan was busy talking to Maridian's father, bent over the man's desk as he pointed out charts and registers and documents sprawled along the desks top. After a continued exchange of quiet words, Maridian witnessed her father pass a datapad and leather pouch to Obi-Wan, who tucked it into his satchel and belt immediately.

Maridian stopped and tugged on Remy's arm, pulling the girl back. She gently tugged one of her raven curl's with a finger and straightened the sash of her dress before she fastened the button her cloak, drawing it around the girl's shoulders. Then she turned to Henna, and did much of the same thing, smiling at her sister.

Henna intercepted the ties on the front of her crepe dress, straightening them appropriately. After she'd finished, she shared a knowing look with Maridian before going to intercept Remy and her father, who was now far too busy staring at his three daughters with a speechless and rigid Obi-Wan.

Maridian gave him a flat smile before she approached her father, bending to kiss his cheek. He fingered one of her curls and grinned at her, before patting her arm and sending her away with a quiet plea to stay safe and watch over her sisters. With a nod, she turned to Obi-Wan.

"Well," she stated simply, tucking her hair behind her ear. She'd decided to leave it down, parted to the side, with three tight braids running from her temple to mingle with her free-flowing locks. Very rarely did she ever wear her hair down, but Henna and Remy had insisted. "Do I look the part of a haggling businesswoman, Ben? Would you strike a deal with me in this dress?" It was so foreign to call him that, but she knew it was necessary. She teased him with a smile.

He didn't seem put off by the name, or he didn't pay it a mind, she wasn't sure which. But, he did tease her back with a lift of his shoulder and a grin of his own. "I'm certain, in that dress my dear, that you could talk anyone into anything." She looked away and blushed, and he nodded towards the door to gesture with a hand, "The speeder is ready whenever we are."

She smiled at him, "Then ready we should be. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back." and retrieved her cloak from the peg by the stairs, Obi-Wan following behind. She slipped into it, nodded to her father, and hurried up the steps behind Remy and Henna.

* * *

It was not unusual for Talban's from every direction to venture into the village during the celebration. The village was brimming with bodies and business deals by the time Maridian and Obi-Wan arrived with her sisters in tow, and they hardly managed to find a place to leave the speeder. Settling for a place behind Thor's cantina, they moved into the crowds carefully, Obi-Wan leading them with certainty.

There was a myriad of languages, mixed with Tatooine dialects, and species everywhere. Maridian hadn't been aware that so many had called the Talban Territories their home in the year since the last celebration, but then again, much had happened. The Empire had driven many people out of the Core Worlds and left many more on the run from government, and a simple, unimportant life on Tatooine was a paradise to those rendered. It was no surprise that Maridian didn't recognize half of the people.

She held tightly to Remy's hand, and Henna clung on her arm strongly as they navigated the bustle of people. The suns were beginning to set on the horizon, and it was customary for business to begin at nightfall. Many of the people came into Talba early to schmooze, but Maridian knew everyone she was willing to do business with, and had no need for it. In recent years, she preferred to arrive in the evening, do her business, and celebrate with her sisters.

But, tonight would be different. Obi-Wan was with them, and people were looking for her. Jabba's people. Money had its hand in everything, now, and she could afford no mistakes or exposure. It would be better for all involved to make business, and go home.

She spotted Owen and Beru Lars duck into Thor's cantina, Luke swaddled in Beru's arm and pressed against her breast securely. Maridian had seen him only a handful of times since the Lars's had taken him in, and then he hand been the son of Obi-Wan's apprentice. Now, she felt almost kindled with the child, and longed to see him again. Any glimpse of Obi-Wan's past as a Jedi she could get, she would take.

She tugged on Obi-Wan's cloak, and he turned to face her. He lowered his head for her to speak into his ear among the throng of chattering crowds. She pointed towards the cantina, "I just saw Owen Lars slip into Thor's," she gestured to the building with her head, "let's start there."

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Let's be careful," he said quietly into her ear, his beard tickling the soft skin behind it, "best to not draw attention to ourselves, especially around Owen. He does not fancy my involvement with the boy." He guided her arm through his own; their faces hidden form the world with their hoods drawn.

She nodded her understanding, and he patted her hand, giving her a gentle smile. He took point, and guided them through the crowd until they marched down the steps into Thor's cantina. Any hope for a reprieve from the crowd of people as gone, as the cantina was busy with life and deals of its own.

The waitresses behind the bar were busy at work, Thor right alongside them. When they caught sight of Maridian, Xee dropped what she was doing and hurried over. Miva was not far behind, and the two women intercepted her with squealing pleasure.

"Maridian!" Xee wrapped her arms around her tightly, and squeezed her in a welcoming hug. Obi-Wan stepped away with her two sisters, looking around warily, before Henna guided Remy towards the direction of Beru Lars. Maridian watched over Xee's shoulder as they greeted the woman cheerily. Beru lit up, and pulled the baby from her breast to expose him to Remy and Henna's attention.

"We've missed you," Miva inserted, "how are you doing? Thor said you weren't able to work anymore, considering what happened." she planted two kisses on each of Maridian's cheeks and stepped back, crossing her arms in front of her.

Maridian nodded, smiling at them. "That's true. Father doesn't want me going out too much alone, considering the event." She looked around the room, and shrugged a shoulder. "But I'm doing well. Everyone else?"

Xee shrugged, "As good as can be expected, being in this place." She waved a hand through the air, her eyes landing on Obi-Wan. "Oh. Mr. Kenobi," she seemed flustered for a moment, before turning to face him full-on. "I didn't expect to see you here. Hi."

He nodded politely, "Hello," he said calmly, looking past the Togruta to Maridian.

Miva inserted, "Can we get you anything?" She looked to Maridian, putting a hand on her arm. She offered her a sympathetic smile, and added, "Please say you're going to stick around after business dies down around here. We've missed you a lot and want to know what's new."

"It would be a relief to have some civilized company around here for a change," Xee added with a whisk of her hand. Then, she leaned her head in to whisper to Maridian, "and rumor has it that you've broken your engagement with Talor. You'll have to spill those details."

Maridian chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Well," she looked over to Obi-Wan, "I don't know how long we'll stay. But, I don't need anything. If you'd see to Henna and Remy, that'd be wonderful."

Xee nodded, quirking a brow. "Sure thing." When Thor called her name from behind the bar, she shrugged and stomped a foot stubbornly before tossing Maridian a look. "We'll see ya later, girl. Nose to the grindstone and all." She moved through the press of people to return to work behind the bar, and Miva gave her arm a squeeze before taking to the crowd again as well.

Once they were gone, Obi-Wan came to her side again. He removed the hood of his cloak, and she did as well, draping her hair over her shoulder. He took her gently by the elbow and escorted her to the table where Owen had returned to Beru. Henna and Remy had already welcomed themselves to the table and were fawning over the boy, Luke.

"Beru," Maridian inserted, signaling the woman's attention.

The woman lit up with a smile and stood, opening her to an embrace with an arm while the other securely held to Luke. Maridian hugged her lightly, kissed her cheek, and Beru seated herself again. She passed the swaddled baby to Owen, and turned in her seat to look up to Maridian. "Look at you," she shook her head and gestured up and down Maridian with a hand, "it's been too long, friend."

Maridian smiled. "Indeed it has. And I see you've been busy growing up Luke so fast. He's so much bigger than I remember." Owen pulled back the blanket from the baby's face, and nodded to her in a silent greeting. "Owen," she recognized.

He looked past her to cement his stare on Obi-Wan, and his expression pulled tight. There was a tension between the two immediately, and Maridian felt Obi-Wan guard himself appropriately. He'd already told her that Owen and he had their differences about Luke, and he'd held to keeping his distance. By the look on Owen's face, it was apparent that it hadn't been distant enough.

"Maridian. It's good to see you doing well." he said politely, his tone flat. Then, he passed the baby to Beru, who welcomed him brightly. She began to coo the baby as Owen addressed Obi-Wan. "Kenobi. Didn't expect I'd see you here tonight."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Well, here I am," he said, voice void of its usual emotion.

Maridian jumped to his aide, not appreciating the feeling of tension in the force. She'd always been keen on reading emotions between people in conversation, but now that Obi-Wan had taught her to fine tune her senses, she picked up on it almost immediately. "Ben is escorting me and my sisters tonight," she gestured between them, "you know he's moved into the place not far from us."

Beru nodded, smiling kindly up at Obi-Wan. "Hello, Ben. It's good to see you doing well." She rocked the baby in her arms, bobbing him up and down. She looked to the boy. "We heard that you took over the old farm. How's it coming along?"

He shrugged a shoulder, folding his arms in front of him. "Nicely. Maridian and her family have been most king in helping it along. It's kind of you to ask." Upon Owen's scrutinizing glare, he looked away.

Owen inserted, "Escorting, huh? How's that work, with you being promised to Jukkuun?" He sat back in his chair roughly. Maridian, taken aback by his statement, tried to keep her heart from hammering against her ribcage. It did little in light of the throbbing music and dull pound of voices.

"Owen," Beru spat suddenly. He only shrugged.

"What?" He inserted gruffly, "I'm only asking. It's odd that she's in town at the celebration with Ben and not her betrothed, at all." He gestured to Kenobi with a hand, "Others who didn't know better wouldn't be so discreet."

Maridian pinned him with a look, not appreciating his tone. "I'm no longer promised to Talor." she said, her voice suddenly cold. "Our engagement has been dissolved, not that it was ever announced." She folded her arms before her, hoping that her face wasn't red. "We found that we were incompatible." Suddenly she felt ill, and her stomach flopped overly oddly. She didn't like Owen's accusation, or the picture he was painting of her and Obi-Wan.

Owen's brow piqued. "Hmm," he shook his head, "that's not the word around here –"

Beru swatted his arm and frowned. "Owen. It's not your place," she turned back to Maridian and smiled apologetically, "Would you care to sit, Maridian?"

She shook her head, "I don't think so. I think I need some fresh air. Excuse me." With a departing nod, she moved away from the table, weaving through the people and edging her way towards the door. She was almost to the exit when a huge body slid to a stop in front of her, blocking her path.

She pulled up suddenly, and her heart froze like a stone in her chest. She hitched a breath, and took a staggering step back as the figure stared down at her, familiar eyes pinning her with a salacious look. She felt her stomach sink.

"Talor," she breathed.

A chuckle lumbered around his chest as his arms folded in front of him. "Well, look who it is. Hello, sweetheart." He reached for her arm and gestured with a hand through the air. "Come into town after all this time to strike a deal, huh? And here I thought you were avoiding me."

She backed away, jerking her arm from his reach. "What I'm in Talba for is my business, not yours." She frowned at him. "And you'll excuse me if I'm short on conversation. I was just leaving."

He grinned a toothy smile at her, and in a quick lurch, seized her arm in a tight hold. His broad shouldered brushed a passerby, who grunted and moved away, disgruntled. Talor sneered at the man and hauled her forward, shuffling a few steps towards him. "Well, allow me to take you outside, Miss Hail. After all," he snickered again, pitching her hear into a painful throb, "what are friends for?" His speech was only slightly slurred, and his breath smelled like ale. The way he staggered assured Maridian that he was drunk.

Maridian resisted, panic edging its way over her mind like a web. Somehow she managed to gather the force and send out a plea to Obi-Wan, and she scanned the room hoping to have triggered his attention. Talor, with her arm in his hand, turned to haul her from the cantina.

"Let go of me, Talor," she hissed, roughly jerking her arm away. She slapped his arm, her nails clawing at the sleeve of his tunic, _"Now._ "

He roughly hauled her forward. "Nonsense," he grated into her ear, "you owe me a nice chat, don't you think, girl? After what you did to me?"

She pulled away, fighting her arms out from beneath her cloak to fight off his hold. She shook her head, hoping that some of the people in the crowd would notice her situation. If they did, no one paid her a mind. She was sweating now, and her breathing was raggedly uneven – flashbacks were playing through her mind; familiar pain anchoring in her chest. The night in the alleyway was as clear as it had ever been.

"Let go," she enforced her statement with a grated hiss, "let go of me, or I'll scream –"

He had the audacity to laugh. "And who will hear you, Maridian?" He stepped towards the stairs leading up and out of the cantina, shuffling her forward with a probing shove, "There's a hundred people in this cantina, and not a one of them knows who you are."

"I'm afraid that's where you are mistaken. Release her, Talor. Now."

A spring of hope dashed into Maridian's chest, and she struggled for a moment to look past Talor's hulking for to match the voice to the face. Relief washed over her when Obi-Wan registered behind Talor. She Talor let go of her instantly, and she bypassed him and flew to Obi-Wan's side.

He welcomed her with an open arm, and she wrapped herself around him. She immediately felt her heart begin to calm as a familiar presence of peace nestled itself in her stomach. Contentedly, she released a breath as his arm securely held her against him.

"Ben," she sighed quietly, relief flooding her voice. If she hadn't meant to appear so helpless, she was certain her tone gave it away.

Obi-Wan didn't pry his stare off Talor. "Not to worry, Maridian. I am right here." He narrowed his gaze, "I trust, for Jukkuun's sake, that you are unharmed?"

She nodded against his chest, "I'm fine," before she tucked a curl behind her ear. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, putting effort into willing the swirling energy to settle within her core. She felt release come slowly, and stayed her breathing.

Talor, however, was losing composure. "Kenobi." Talor spat the name as if it were bitter water on his tongue, and glared at the man. "I see now – your father didn't dissolve our engagement because you weren't ready to marry me. He dissolved it for this… _wanderer._ " His chest puffed out in a superior move, and his squared his shoulders to fold his arms before him. "I understand clearly, now."

Obi-Wan's heart was calmly beating against her cheek, and she looked at Talor from the safety of his embrace. When he glared at her with burning hatred, she looked away and found Beru, Owen, and her two sisters hurrying towards them. She moved away from Obi-Wan to Beru's embrace, where she was gathered by her sisters in a secure and supportive circle.

Owen stepped up beside Obi-Wan. "We don't want trouble, Talor. This is a celebration, and not place for a quarrel. If you and Kenobi have differences to discuss, you'll not do it tonight." He put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, "Kenobi. Now isn't the place. Not in front of the girls."

"I'm sure you are right," Obi-Wan said, his voice stoically hardened. He began shrugging out of his cloak, and passed it to Owen without a second thought. "However, I'm inclined to think otherwise. Forgive me."

Without a second thought, he took a rushing step forward and threw his arm back to slam it into Talor's chin, effectively sending the man staggering backwards against the wall. The crowd, obviously flustered, cried out as Talor's form rushed by into the wall. The people parted and circled around. Talor shook his head, rubbed his chin, and managed to get to his feet.

Maridian rushed forward, suddenly afraid of what Obi-Wan would do. He was liable to do anything being in the temper he was, and she didn't want him to do anything he regretted. She was about to go to him when Owen wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her back, Beru rushing forward to put a hand on her arm. Both of them pinned her with a look and shook their heads, no.

She turned her attention back to Obi-Wan, who was moving to intercept Talor again. The crowd had gathered fully now, and the music had stopped. It was staggeringly quiet. She could've sworn the people could've heard her throat close up, because eyes were staring at her from around the gathered circle of observers.

With lightening speed, he sent a blow to Talor's chin again, then a kick chest. It was the knee to the solar plexus that sent Talor to his knees, unprepared for a fight. He gasped for breath, supporting himself on his arms, and looked up at Kenobi.

Obi-Wan crouched and grabbed the man's collar, hauling his head up to glare at him. "You would do wise to stay away from Maridian and her family, Talor. I will not make this clear again." He narrowed his eyes. "And know this. I will never be far away from her, or her family, or anyone in this village, should you try something foolish. I am staying in Talba. My chances of leaving are minute." He released Talor's collar roughly and stood, staring down at the man. "You do not want me to interfere again, man. It's high time you left."

He was about to turn on his heel, when Talor managed to stand. Bent over and holding his side, he spat towards Obi-Wan's back. "Mark my words, Kenobi. I won't rest until I have what I want. One day, sometime soon, you won't be around. Then...then I'll get what I have patiently waited for. No one cheats me out of anything. No one." He hissed, "Especially not you."

Obi-Wan pulled up, and glanced over his shoulder. "We're done," he said sternly. Then, he turned on his heel, intercepted his cloak from Owen Lars, and grabbed Maridian's arm. Balling the cloak under his arm, he jerked his head towards the exit, a stony look of determination on his face. "We're leaving," he inserted with a hot calm, and practically drug Maridian and her sisters out of the cantina.

"But what about our business –" Henna started.

"I have business of my own to conduct," Obi-Wan said sharply, "and I am done skirting the issue. I am willing to take no more chances." The crowd outside the cantina parted for them, thought Maridian was sure at this point Obi-Wan would have trailblazed right through them if he had needed to.


	31. Chapter Thirty

She skirted the edge of the extravagant palace effortlessly, as if a perfect shadow flowing fluidly into the air; both invisible and undisturbed. For all the power the Empire sported, landing in the spaceport was child's play. It would have been more difficult to catch a Hutt standing still.

It would not be a difficult building to infiltrate. Most of the security was on the perimeter, but would ultimately not be a problem under the cover of darkness. The main concern would be the inside during the night hours, but she really wasn't worried. Organa would waltz right onto her game-board, as she anticipated. All she needed to do was get eyes on the inside, and pry a look into Alderaan's royal family.

She brushed shoulders with a strangers, only to sneer at them from beneath the hood of her cloak. She drug her eyes back towards the entrance, counting the steps of the patrolling guard from her place in the courtyard. Midway through her count, the holocom tucked against her hip suddenly chirped, irking her.

"What is it?" She demanded with a hiss. Instantly she recognized the scarlet skinned Twi'lek – her latest business partner from the wastelands of Tatooine. He crossed his arms before checking over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes.

" _I have a plan,_ " he stated simply, _"and I'm going to need your help. Succeed, and we'll all get what we want."_ He raised his chin, _"Of course, if you'll give us the honor_." Everything in his tone made her want to choke the very life out of his body, and wonder why she hadn't back at the cantina. She sneered into the holocommunicator, then followed a passerby with her eyes carefully.

She pulled the hood of her cloak closed at the neck, and hissed into the device, "You are walking a very thin line, calling me here, lackey," she narrowed her eyes, and added, "we will discuss this later. I have previous engagements," before she disconnected the call.

Tucking away her device, she slipped into the shadows of the crowd, entirely unnoticed. She needed time to set her plan in motion, and time was something no one seemed to spare on this world.

* * *

Obi-Wan practically flew off the speeder once he'd skidded the machine to a stop outside the Hail's front door. Sand particles flew everywhere and stung his eyes, but he didn't care. He swung himself off the machine and grabbed at Maridian's wrist, giving her no time to react as he slammed his palm against the control panel of her family's home. He was fairly confident his sense of reason was at its wits end as he hauled her down the stairs, her straining to keep up.

Never before had he felt such rage as he had this night. He had been standing there, keeping a close on all of the Hail daughters when out of nowhere he had felt the sickening disturbance in the force – a disturbance he remembered as only Talor Jakkuun. It had taken him only a fraction of a moment to react, and he had been fortunate he had. Any other hesitation would have had consequences he could not fathom.

He had not thought about hitting the man until he'd drug Maridian and her sisters from the cantina – the dull ache in his hands were testimony to that alone. His stomach still simmered with hot anger at the very thought of the situation. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan had been taught to suppress such rage, as it led to hate and other practices of the dark side. It was easier then; with an Order to keep one accountable to such practices. As a man, however, cast outside of a now extinct order, its arms were far more welcoming than he had previously realized.

The stairs came up on him faster than he realized, and he stumbled down into the home, to find that Bartholomew was studiously writing on a data- pad, maps and other charts surrounding him. He looked exhausted, and was startled when Obi-Wan stumbled into the room. Henna and Remy were right behind them, and he tugged Maridian forward, still simmering beyond reasonable comprehension. He released her wrist and she seated herself quickly.

He was not the man of wisdom and serenity that he had been in this moment. Anakin, perhaps, would have been proud. "I've made a decision," he said strongly, slipping out of his cloak. He tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair and looked over his shoulder to the younger girls. "If you'd excuse us, girls, it would be better for you to wait outside until your sister retrieves you." He then raised a congruent brow to Maridian, who nodded.

"You heard him," she waved them off; "I'll come for you in a minute."

"But we always have to go outside!" Remy protested immediately, stomping a foot. She crossed her arms and frowned severely. "I want to stay!"

Henna frowned, cocked a hip, and crossed her arms as well. "She's right. If something is going on and we're in danger, we deserve to know it too. Maridian isn't the only sister in this family." She stalked towards the table, roughly pulled out a chair, and plopped down into it. "Now, tell us what's going on, Ben."

Obi-Wan shared a look with Bartholomew and then Maridian, who sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Bartholomew nodded, folded his hands together, and leaned back in his chair. "She's right. Enough secrets have been shared in this house." He leaned forward and gestured for Obi-Wan to continue, "Now, what have you to say, Mr. Kenobi?"

Briefly Obi-Wan considered the man's statement. What _had_ he to say? Enough secrets _had_ been born in this family, and the dark side plagued him like a disease. So much anger and hatred and fear was brooding here – he had to do something. What kind of man would he be if he sat by and watched this family unraveling, especially having the power to prevent it? They were defenseless not only against both Jabba and Talor, but also the Empire – he couldn't let Maridian fall into its grip that would promise her demise.

He had already watched Anakin suffer the same fate. He would not hand over another person that he loved so willingly.

It struck him then, as he stared at Maridian that he was in love with her. Perhaps it was ignorance that kept him blind, or perhaps it was jaded dogma that had riddled his mind with confusion. He remembered Yoda's warning – he had struggled with attachment all his life, and perhaps that was a part of the reason the Jedi had died. Perhaps maybe, just maybe, if they had banded together in word, deed, and heart, they could have kept the Order alive and caught the fallen future that was Anakin Skywalker. Perhaps if only they had invested more in each other than their politics, the Republic would still be. Perhaps Maridian would be safe, and he would be complete.

He had lost Siri, and Satine, Anakin, and even Ahsoka Tano because of his foolishness. He would not lose Maridian. Obi-Wan had made that decision as he had ripped Maridian away from Talor. A part of him had made that decision when he had kissed her that first time, in his hovel, her so naïve and wanting – he'd fallen into attachment as much as he'd tried to keep her at bay. She wasn't a young girl at all, no – Maridian wasnn't even his student. She had first been his friend, and now she'd become something so much more precious: she was his future. He understood now – his destiny on Tatooine was not just to oversee Luke's protection, but to ensure that Maridian had a future. It such a clear revelation in the force that Obi-Wan could almost see right through it.

These decisions were confirmed even now, as she was staring at him with hopeless blue eyes and desperation. He swallowed the dogma of the Jedi, even now so close to his heart but so far away, and turned to face her father. His decision was made. He couldn't go back – he _wouldn't_ go back. He had spent his entire life running away from the hearts of the very people he'd sworn to serve as a Jedi. No more. His gut trembled insecurely, and seemed to rattle his bones.

He raked his hands through his hair and gestured between Maridian and himself. This would take courage – much more courage than he'd ever had to muster. He'd warred across the stars his entire life, and nothing had been more terrifying than this.

He cleared his throat. He had battled Sith, and Separatists, "I've decided that it is far too dangerous for any of us to be alone anywhere near Talba and its territory while Talor has such a magnificent following. His behavior tonight was inexcusable." He crossed his arms over his chest, "Had I not been present tonight, things would have gone poorly." he let his gaze trail to Maridian, only to pull back sharply to her father, who sat with gauged interest across the table from him, "I propose we –"

He waved a hand to halt Obi-Wan's monologue. "As we have discussed, son. You're not telling me anything I don't already know." Bartholomew gestured to Maridian. "I have done what you suggested – do you have something else in mind?" Obi-Wan was briefly caught up on the use of the word "son"- he'd never been anyone's son – but he let his mind absorb the man's words.

Maridian was all confusion, and Obi-Wan could sense its sudden thrust into the force like a strong lightsaber thrust. "I don't understand," she stood up abruptly, her chair scarping back against the floor crudely, "You're both talking like I'm not even here." She smacked the table before crossing her arms, opening her mouth to continue. Her father threw up a hand.

"Maridian." Was all he said. His tone spoke volumes more.

Obi-Wan watched her relinquish the argument when she saw the sharp look in his eye. She slowly sat back down, but did not uncross her arms. Instead, she raised her chin a fraction of an inch and clamped her jaw tight. Obi-Wan felt his stomach knot into a ball. He braced his legs, as if prepared to withstand a blow, and flexed his fingers nervously. He was sweating more than he'd realized. Very suddenly, a lump formed in his throat. Doubt crippled him in the back of his mind.

 _No. No more._

Mind envigorated, he blurted, "I think Maridian should stay with me. Permanently." and before he could even reason with the consequences, "And I…I want to offer myself to her in…marriage," was out. His jaw clamped down tight and he felt his gut sour with poisonous humiliation – he felt something strike the force that was both hot and cold, but was equally sickening. It was as if the force had been sucked out of an airlock, only to be launched into a suffocating abyss. He suddenly felt lightheaded, but didn't move.

The room bristled before the very air seemed to gasp, as if the atmosphere itself were set to judge him just as Jedi would. He felt something break loose in his spirit that soared straight into his chest and pluck his heart of the dark seclusion – it was as if someone had ignited him with a blade. Something exploded in the room – Remy and Henna sucked in a surprised gasp, and he could sense their anticipation in the force. Bartholomew sat back in his chair, taken aback, before he rubbed his jaw and looked to Maridian in contemplation. She just sat, stunned, with her mouth open.

He wasn't sure, very suddenly. She was a mixture of fear and trembling excitement in the force – he'd never felt such emotions come through so clearly. It was as if someone had lifted a veil off the force, and it exploded him with realization. He suddenly became afraid – what had he done? He hardly knew this girl outside of the few months he'd been on Tatooine. He was a Jedi. He was exiled, and wanted by the Empire. Every woman he'd ever loved had died mercilessly because of his actions. He hadn't even stopped to ask himself if this was what she wanted – did she even love him? Had he denied himself her affections for the sake of her training so much that she'd abandoned the notion?

Could he give her everything in a galaxy that had nothing left?

There was a good, long silence for a few painstaking moments before Bartholomew allowed his hoverchair to glide back. He navigated it around the table and halted it before Obi-Wan, who diligently tried to keep a straight face, though he was certain all the color had drained from it. He hadn't thought to make it sound so…ill eloquent. Obi-Wan suddenly found it very difficult to look the man in the face.

It took a moment for the blood to settle in his ears. Only when that subsided was he able to notice what was going on. Remy and Henna were giddy with wide grins on their faces, Remy now wrapped in her sister's embrace and standing by her chair, the pair of them swaying back in forth in their embrace. Obi-Wan thought to look to Maridian, but he was suddenly taken aback when Bartholomew took hold of his hand in his own and patted it softly. He lowered slowly to his haunches to stand square with the man, who now had tears in his eyes.

He reached out and rested his palm along Obi-Wan's jaw, before tipping his head to the side and studying his face. He held his attention strongly, with the masculinity of a father but also the tender heart of a caregiver. It stuck Kenobi to his core – for once, he didn't feel like a Jedi Master who had all the answers, or needed them. For the first time, he felt like more than just a man. He felt like a… _son._ It shattered the walls in his mind. The force stretched wide for him now, reaching him in places that the Jedi's teachings had sealed off. He felt something connect with his heart, something fiercely hot. He didn't understand it. All he knew was that he never wanted to leave this place, or this feeling, or this acceptance that he felt from a family that wasn't even his own.

Bartholomew nodded, squeezed Obi-Wan's hand, and then tilted his head back to close his eyes to the ceiling. "Thank the stars," he breathed quietly, then righted to look at Obi-Wan, a smile splitting his face. "I could not agree more with you, my boy, and would not dream of withholding you my blessing. I have known for a great deal of time now that you were in love with my daughter, try as you would to hide it. But now – by stars, by now you've admitted it. How could I possibly refuse?" He smacked his knee enthusiastically. He let out a deep sigh of relief, and fell back into his chair fully. Obi-Wan could feel the peace and relief in the force around the man, and it brought him exuberant joy to know that he, for the first time in a great while, was the cause of such jubilance.

Obi-Wan grinned at him, before Bartholomew playfully smacked his arm. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to Maridian, who was sitting in the chair stoically, eyes brazenly riveted to him. He felt his stomach drop and then soar into his chest with excited anxiety, and he turned on his heel to stand fully before her, now looking down at her form in the chair. She looked up at him, blinking her crystalline blue eyes once. He could feel her uncertainty and almost breathe in her hesitation – but her excitement was insurmountable. He'd never felt such raw emotion in the force, and drank it in.

"Maridian," he started, reaching for her hand. He dropped to his haunches before her and cupped her hand in his own. Her eyes followed his movements, and then locked onto his own. He noticed that she was beginning to cry as she looked over his shoulder to her father, and then back at him. She began to tremble.

"I know this is sudden, and very much unlike everything I've told you about myself. Honestly, I'm not sure I am the same man I was when I first came here." He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and a silent tear dripped onto her cheek. He reached up to swipe it away with the pad of his thumb, letting his hand fall into place along her jaw naturally, "I can't offer you much more than you have now – not money, not prestige, and not adventure. I can't redeem you from this world, and I can't offer you a new one. I don't even know if I can offer you myself and hold to that vow. But," he gave her a grim smile, "I can offer you a promise – a promise to keep you, and your loved ones, away from harm. A promise to make sure you're taken care of and safe. I promise that I'll give you as much of a future as I can, and your family – and that I will continue to love you as deeply as I do in this moment, forever. In a galaxy that has nothing left, Maridian, I will try to give you everything."

She didn't even hesitate to nod her compliance, before she threw her at him and wrapped her arms tightly around him, only to bury her face into his neck and sob out a relieved laugh. Surprised for only a moment, he hesitated only a half a second before enveloping her in his arms and holding her tightly. He felt suddenly safe, and complete, and at peace as her aroma floated around him and as her hair tickled his nose.

She nodded into his shoulder before replying, "Of course – yes, _yes_ of course," it was hardly audible, but if he hadn't heard it from her, he felt it in the force. Relief rolled through him like a Geonosian sandstorm, in tumults and waves. He could feel her heart throbbing against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel his screaming, too. She pulled away, took his face in her hands, and nodded profusely. "Yes, yes. A thousand times, _yes."_

Obi-Wan felt so giddy that he could cry. She wrapped around him again, kissed the spot behind his ear softly, and then added quietly, "Oh, Master Kenobi – I…love you. I love _you_ , Obi-Wan. I _love_ you." She began to weep quietly as the world faded away and the force became almost a tangible being around them. He could feel it weaving delicately; moving between them like nothing he'd ever felt in the force before.

He wrapped his arms securely around her, buried his face gently against her shoulder, and wept.

* * *

Author's Note **: Greetings! I've returned with an update for Ben. Know that I'm alive and well - and, after moving into my first apartment and getting settled into my new job as a college graduate, I can say that life is both busy and good (see the update on my bio page as of February 2017). Also, for those interested, I might be launching a Star Wars: The Old Republic piece, so keep watch for it - I'd love for you to follow me on that journey, too. Know that I'm around and writing when I have a few moments to breathe. Until we meet again, fellow Jedi!**


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

The Twi'lek lackey paced back and forth, hands folded behind his back, while his Zabrak counterpart sat across from Talor in their out-skirts shack just out of the Mos Eisley gates. He was carving skin off a delectable looking purple fruit, one that Talor was trying hard not to envy, with a huge vibroblade. His movements were precise and delicate, as if fondling a woman instead of fruit.

They had not heard word back from the bounty hunter in three days since they had relayed to her their plan, and things were moving slowly. Talor could feel Jabba breathing down his neck, even from a distance, and tried to put out his mind the idea of what should happen when he faced the Hutt's wrath. It dropped his stomach into his feet, and Atonas now began mumbling under his breath. Talor didn't bother, nor had the energy, to decipher his whining.

He had devised his plan carefully over the past three days, since Kenobi had socked him stupid in the cantina. He had made a slobbering fool of himself, for sure – not that anyone out here would hold it against him. But, still remained the rage and humiliation he felt due to the fact he'd been roughed by an offworlder such as Ben Kenobi, a man he had employed and helped. To know that Maridian clung to Kenobi left a sour taste in his mouth. He felt like spitting.

Suddenly, the holocom on the table chirped to life, and all three of them sprung into action. Talor was the first to intercept it and connected the call. It flickered to life, illuminating the feminine figure of the bounty hunter he had heard so much about. When he looked upon her, a chill ran down his spine – she reminded him of some type of serpent; devious and dangerous, with ashen color skin and dark, hateful features. She was perhaps the most wicked thing he had even rested eyes on. Her sly grin and and chuckle punched his gut, hard.

Atonas, foolishly, was the first to speak. "It's about time, bounty hunter," he growled, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest. "I was beginning to think you skipped out on me."

Talor could feel the burn of her glare from here, even though she was lightyears away. Her look simmered and settled on him, and she scanned him up and down before crossing her own arms in front of her. The billowing sleeves of her cloak meshed together like something out of a dream. " _Your time is of no value to me, Twi'lek,"_ her was voice gravelly and dark, " _so you would be wise to remember your place. I have made arrangements on Alderaan that will put the plan in motion, though it will take time. Infiltrating House Organa will be no simple task. Luckily there are those on this world that are not too pleased with Organa's political standing in the new Empire, and have offered their services for a small price."_ Her lips twisted into a devious looking smile and she tapped her finger against her chin slowly. _"Bail Organa is currently away to a security evaluation on Coruscant, and is not due back for weeks more."_

Atonas' brow dropped into a blaring furrow, and he smacked the top of the slick table, pushing himself away in fury. Talor watched him, careful, as the Zabrak stopped slicing the skin of his delicate fruit to fleck a look up at his counterpart. The woman stopped, and a brow lifted in curiosity.

"A few _weeks_? We do not have a few more weeks, bounty hunter!" He swore and rubbed the top of his lekku, furiously. "Jabba wants his credits _now._ In a few weeks more, they'll be nothing left of us!" He threw his hands into the air. "This is –"

She held up a hand to cease his ranting, " _Silence, you insolent fool!"_ Matham jumped in his chair and dropped his knife, and Talor pushed away from the holocom to put distance between him and the thunderous woman. She glared and raised her chin, her hand falling back into folded position before her. " _You know little of what must go on here, lackey. House Organa is a fiercely fortified center of Alderaanian civilization. Its members represent the planet in the Imperial Senate, and are exceptionally guarded. Infiltrating it will be a process. Time is to our benefit."_

Atonas shook his hand and folded his arms tightly across his chest again. Talor couldn't help but notice that his scarlet skin was a deep red, now, more like blood than scarlet. Talor clamped his jaw and bit down on his tongue only for a moment, before he looked to the holocom and stood. He was careful in his movements - perhaps this is what prey felt under the scrutiny of predators in the wilds.

She registered his presence, and gave him a superior look as she watched him round to the front of the device. He cleared his throat, "Be that as it may, bounty hunter, Jabba is not a patience Hutt. His wrath knows no time constraints. He may not be willing to give you the time you need." He swallowed a thick breath, and slipped his hand into the pocket of his breeches. "And if that is the case, you do not get your friend any more than we get our credits."

She seemed to appreciate his approach more than Atonas', and raised a brow before releasing a somewhat frustrated sigh. However, Talor could see she was more distressed with their lack of knowledge than just having frazzles nerves. She seemed to be as cold and solid as steel. " _I will discuss business dealings with Jabba the Hutt. I have done work for him before, and he knows me well. He will extend to us the time we needs – especially after he understands that we plan to storm the treasury kept in House Organa's walls."_

This was the first Talor had heard of the Organa wealth being drawn into their scheme. His brows shot up, and he shared a surprised look with both Atonas and Matham. From what he gathered from their own expressions, it was the first they'd heard of the development as well. All three of them looked up at the holocom, to find her smirking with them as if she were a parent tricking a group of children. She jutted up her chin and chuckled.

 _"You didn't think I would leave Organa's house intact, did you?"_ Everything in her tone suggested that she knew they hadn't foretold the arrangement, but she taunted them as well. Talor made a mental note to remember that she was a snake, and could not be trusted. Her entire existence was kept in tact by stabbing people in the back as a bounty hunter. He would not fall victim.

Matham's feet clomped off the table, one before the other, and he tossed the fruit on the table to join them, wiping his hands on his already slick breeches. He came to stand behind Atonas and dropped his shoulders, in the ultimate shrug of half-interest. Talor only looked over the man once with a sweeping gaze before the woman reached up with delicate hands to drop the hood of her cloak entirely.

Matham spoke, first. "You never mentioned a treasury," he looked suspiciously over to Atonas, "And how you plannin' to steal Organa blind out from under his nose by yourself, when we're on Tatooine and you're on Alderaan?"

There was a pause before she rolled her eyes, disgusted with the man's insolence. " _Leave that to me. All you must be concerned with is finding the girl and bringing her to me. Once I have Kenobi, taking the treasury will be the least of what I am concerned with. The difficult part will be getting him here."_ She snickered, and shrugged a shoulder, _"But I have always been once to take on a challenge. I will contact you again when the time is right."_

With a snap of her fingers, the com blinked out, leaving the three of them to contemplate the extent of what she had just foretold.

* * *

The sands shifted beneath Maridian's feet quickly as she skidded to a stop along the northern fence paddock, scrambling to heft herself over the railing on strong arms. She swung herself over quickly, then hit the sands with a _oomf_ as the animal came to a skidding halt just on the other side of parasteel bar. She collapsed into the sand, her hair flopping into her face, as the bantha snorted ragefully and pawed at the sand in anticipation that would not come. Her skin rubbed raw on the sands, awakening new sores.

She had woken early with her sisters to start branding the livestock before they would have to be driven to Anchorhead for the winter months. Their livestock had grown exponentially in the breeding season, to the point where there would not be enough room on their meager stead to house the animals all winter long. She'd chosen five of the strongest animals to keep in the barn, and the others would be stabled in the city until she would retrieve them in spring. A viable part of ranching, but one she did not relish - every year she grouped with other surrounding ranchers to make the trek to Anchorhead, and every year it was as foreboding as the last. The drive was scheduled within the next few weeks, leaving her hardly any time to ready her own livestock.

It was blistering today, with hot and strong winds, which irritated both Maridian and the animals. It was proving a difficult challenge indeed to keep the animals in line while she set to branding, and she'd even tried to use the force the way Obi-Wan had showed her to keep them calm. However, fearing that her sisters would notice, she had abandoned the idea and instead set to do it the old fashioned way, much to her inconvenience. She'd already had to scramble out of the pen three times that afternoon to beat the dangerous hooves of the stampeding livestock.

She closed her eyes, unable to stare into the glaring sun, and the animal's snorts tufted her hair over her face to tickle her nose. She didn't care, instead heard Remy singing down in the barnyard as Maridian commandeered the northern fence. The wind picked up again and blew her hair off her face and sprinkled sand across her chest, and ultimately the beast turned away to continue his march around the paddock. Maridian was content to lay in the sand all afternoon, but she felt a ripple in the Force and the soft crunch of sand approaching her. A smile drifted onto her face and her heart skipped a sudden beat, tossing butterflies into her stomach.

Soon, she heard the quiet rumble of a chuckle, then felt the sun vanish off her face and her eyes opened. There, leaning over her was Obi-Wan, smirking down at her and shaking his head playfully. She grinned up at him and blew the hair out of her face, before he came around and offered her a hand to stand up.

"Working hard?" He jibed before adding, "Or hardly working?" He didn't release her hand, instead pulled her to him and brushed the hair and sand off of her face with a gentle hand. He was a bit sunburned, but otherwise well-kept as she took in the details of his face so close. Maridian was sure to memorize every detail every time she saw him, lest she forget, or afford mishap to.

She pressed her curves against him and her lids dropped half-mast before she interlaced her fingers and looked up at him. He was just beginning to sweat, and the smell she loved so much about him was strong. "That would all depend on your definition of work, _Master_ Kenobi," she teased him, and it worked, because a smile formed beneath his beard and she shrugged a shoulder, suggesting his attention to the beast in the paddock. "If you think you could do better; please, show me."

He huffed out a chuckle and stepped away from her, before slipping out of his cloak. He draped it over the rail, and began rolling up his sleeves. He gave her a side on look, cocked a brow, and put his hands on his hips. Giving a determined nod, he swung into the paddock, immediately grabbing the bantha's attention.

Without hesitation, the animal began to charge, but Obi-Wan was not deterred. Maridian's heart leapt into her chest and she flung herself to the railing, about to drop into the pen beside him to try and reroute the animal's attention. Instead, Obi-Wan shook his head and outstretched a raised hand to the animal, not unlocking his gaze. Maridian froze before she felt something slip through the Force.

The animal immediately slowed, and came to a trotting stop in front of Obi-Wan, snorting in confusion as it shook its head, seemingly in contemplation. Obi-Wan didn't drop his gaze, nor did he lower his hand, until the animal came near enough for him to touch. He ran his fingers through the animal's mane, then lowered his hand before chuckling and patting the bantha's thick neck in approval. He gave Maridian a side look and raised his brow, her dumfounded into silence.

He left the animal, dropped back over the railing, and grabbed her wrist again to pull her towards him. She looked over his shoulder to the bantha again, somewhat still surprised by the development of the situation as he fell against the railing and tucked her hair behind her ear. The animal, however, began to fade away as she was lost in Obi-Wan's familiar scent and touch. Her heart began to hammer, and the Force began to swirl through her like a whirlwind.

Neither of them had come down from cloud nine since their betrothal a few days earlier. Since then, Maridian had not been able to stop smiling as she'd made preparation for the blessed event. Most of her meager belongings had been packed already, waiting for the day where she would make Obi-Wan's home her own. He, too, had started preparing; putting the finishing touches on the hovel and readying it for her arrival. He, too, hadn't been able to stop smiling.

Obi-Wan seemed different, too, than he had been when she'd first met him. He was radiant now, instead of cast off and despairing. His eyes were brighter with life, and his smile was unending, and he carried an easiness about him that surprised her while also being entirely focused and assured. Kenobi seemed genuinely happy, and had been cause for delight every day that he had come to visit her since their betrothal. She had not been back to his hovel for lessons since the blessed day. She would have all the time she needed to study the Force beside him, now.

She ran her fingertips across the stubble on his cheek, her thumb lingering over the small scar before he kissed her, kissed her hard. He tasted like honey and tea, and smelled even better. She felt secure and brilliant as she pressed against him, before a giggle erupted in her throat. It surprised him, and he pulled back slightly to break their kiss.

"Something funny?" He chortled beside her, somewhat confused as he brushed aside a curl from her face. His eyes searched her own and she felt him searching in the Force. Her sensitivity had become so much stronger since she had fully embraced the Force, and she had learned so much. Obi-Wan continually reassured her that there was much more to learn, and that she was progressing well - and, faster than he had anticipated. Her connection to the Force was stronger than he had anticipated.

She shrugged a shoulder, rolling her eyes to the sky to make a point. "Not exactly," she smiled up at him, "I was just thinking how different all this will be, soon." He nodded and sighed, before she stepped away and gathered his cloak and draped it over her arm. His gaze lingered as it followed after her. She looked over her shoulder, crooked her finger for him to follow, and began to guide him back to the house.

He beamed at her, ran his fingers through his hair, and chuckled. "I think about it all the time," he replied, following after her. He rushed up behind her, snaked an arm around her waist, and pressed his lips against the tender spot behind her ear. She squealed and bristled against him as he added, "probably more than a Jedi should."

She swatted him and rolled her eyes. But, when he didn't release, she spun around on him and grabbed the collar of his tunic before cocking a brow and smiling at him, playfully devious. The surprised look on his face was enough to drive her to laughter. "Don't tease me so much," she chided him less than seriously, "and come inside. Henna has made lunch."

He grinned widely, took her hand, and then pulled her towards the family's hovel, "Your argument has won me over," he concluded, leading her down the stairs. She hung his cloak on the peg beside the stairwell, kicked off her boots, and ventured into the kitchen after him.

Henna was elbow deep in a pot of strew, and her father was no in better shape as he tried to pull a pastry out of their oven. Maridian flew into the kitchen to assist with the task, entirely fighting the urge she had to use the force and lift the dessert out herself. Once the chaos had settled and Remy began setting the table did she relax and shoo Obi-Wan off to get cleaned up and retrieve Remy.

They ate in good company, sharing stories and laughter in ways that Maridian had not experienced in a long time. She felt the fullness of the force's joy in her soul, driving her to laughter and sparkling hope that she had not experienced in a great while. When Henna and Remy began to clear the table, her father ushered them into a closer huddle and folded his hands on the table.

"It's time to discuss our arragenement," he said proudly, gesturing to Maridian, "and to start it off I would like to say that I think Maridian should venture into Mos Eisley and stay with Sonika until your…ceremony." He paused only a moment, "It is tradition for a girl to prepare before her wedding, and Sonika would be the one to help you. She is away from Talba, and Talor."

At this, Obi-Wan bristled visibly. Maridian saw his jaw set and she looked between her father and him, and he took her hand beneath the table. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before leaning forward and draping an arm around the table. She held his hand tightly and intertwined their fingers, holding her breath for half an instant before she opened her mouth to reply. She knew Obi-Wan did not approve of her going into Mos Eisley after what had happened, and she wasn't too keen on the idea, either.

Almost immediately, fear pitted itself inside her chest and began to claw for release against her ribs, horrifying memories coming to life in her subconscious. The site of the wounds began to burn, and she fell back in her seat, and a gasp escaped her throat, which began to close. She felt the crushing pain again as if she'd just been struck in the side, before something flashed before her eyes – her body seemed as if it were eaten up with flame.

* * *

 _She saw Mos Eisley, and Jabba's lackeys, reaching for her. She heard them cackling, and the familiarity of her family's homestead vanished. Maridian was suddenly half in the world and half out, floating subconsciously, hardly able to scream but fully able to feel. She tried to grasp realism, but her hands flapped on the air. She opened her mouth to scream, but there was only crushing pressure. Then, she heard Sonika, in the distance, crying out for her-_

 _And then, she saw a distant world – one that was lush, and green, with rolling hills and jagged peaks that were a spine against the horizon along the earth. She could feel this place, now. The air was crisp and almost chilled, saturated with moisture. There was white that blanketed the earth, and the sun was less intense and burning, instead warm and comforting. Her lungs felt fresher than they had before, and her skin could breathe. In the distance, a sparkling spire of buildings stood proudly. An odd gown hung from her body, a light fabric that was white as the blazing sun, and soft._

 _And then there was pain. Deep pain in her abdomen that was unexplained. She shrieked, sank to her knees – the ground was wet and cold – and put her hands to her abdomen. When she withdrew them, they were stained with red, dripping blood, warm and stinking against the crisp air. The sleeves of the robe had turned stained with scarlet –_

 _And then her mother. Or, a youthful, beautiful picture of her mother, clothed in a simple tunic and brown cloak not unlike Obi-Wan's. She held something in one hand, extended to her, that was an odd, cylindrical object, but was strong in the force that pulled her forward. In her other, was a striking green blade of a lightsaber that softly whirred against the air, stoic in its presence. Her mother, so pure and beautiful, smiled at her and whispered her name softly._

 _"Trust in the Force, daughter," she finally said with a laugh, "there is much it is willing to reveal, if only we should listen."_

* * *

-and then, she was jerked out and up, and darkness filled her vision. All was still. The familiar ragged heat of Tatooine plagued her body again, and the familiarity of her surroundings began to come into focus. The table, Obi-Wan's hands – her family voices, all huddled around her ears. She opened her eyes carefully, to find her father shooing both Henna and Remy into the next room, and Obi-Wan was kneeling before her, hand still in her own, coaxing her back into reality. Her head was throbbing and her stomach felt as if it had been launched into the atmosphere out of her body.

"What…happened?" She gasped, putting a hand to her head, "I saw…I saw mother…and a distant world," Obi-Wan looked past her to her father, and they shared a look before he stared back at her and nodded his understanding.

"The force gave you a vision," Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking her hand softly with his thumb. His voice was low, "Did you see anything else?"

She nodded, yes. "Jabba's men. They were reaching out to me, trying to take me," she shuddered and leaned forward over the table, "and Sonika…I heard her screaming for me." At this, he bristled again, but she looked up at her father. "Mother told me to trust in the force, Papa. She said it had much to reveal if only we were to listen. Why would she say that?"

Her father had grown disturbingly quiet, and cold. As if he had closed into himself like a recluse spider. He folded his arms in front of him only for a moment, before he smothered his face with his hands and let out a moan. Bartholomew shook his head, and then quickly navigated out of the room, Obi-Wan rising from his haunches to go after him. She stopped him by grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

"What does that mean, Obi-Wan?" She asked, keeping her voice quiet. It quavered, and her hand was beginning to tremble. She could still hear Sonika screaming, and her mother laughing, and cool feel the wrenching pain in her abdomen. "Why would the Force show me my mother?"

He shook his head, took her hand in his own, and kissed the back of it before patting it understandingly. "I don't know," he sighed, scratching his beard, "sometimes the force shows us visions of our future and things to come, and sometimes it shows us things past. And then there are times it just… _shows us._ I do think you hearing Sonika's voice was some type of prophecy – you should go to her, like your father said, though I am against the idea."

Her face dropped into a wrinkle, and she felt her stomach sour only slightly. Her mind whirled with questions, but knew the subject had been closed as soon as he'd released her to Mos Eisley. But, the look in his eye told her he would try and help her understand, at another more opportune moment. He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and guided her into an embrace. She faltered on her feet only a moment as he held her securely. She rested her head against his chest, and released an uneasy breath, content to listen to his heartbeat rhythmically against his chest. That, for now, was enough to reassure her of her present state.

* * *

Mos Eisley, in all its deplorable glory, was hot and all too familiar as Maridian and Obi-Wan walked their eopies into the city. They'd opted to walk into the city rather than riding their mounts, in hopes to blend more inconspicuously with the crowds of pressed bodies and foreign languages. The myriad of noise, color, smells, and species was enough to swirl Maridian's mind, even it hadn't been shaken already.

Maridian was sweating beneath her cloak, but pulled it tighter around her face. She was exhausted from not only the hike, but also having kept her awareness on high alert most of the trip. She'd been anxious since her vision, unsure of what it meant, and was not alleviated of the burden now that Obi-Wan would be leaving her here. He had reassured her he would be back to see her, but could not risk leaving the hovel unattended now that it was livable and furnished. He had confidence she was strong enough in the Force to be able to sense danger.

They wove between merchants and buyers, smugglers and miscreants, peasants and families as they navigated the streets towards Sonika's store. Obi-Wan walked beside her, guiding his beast, his face hidden beneath his cloak's hood. He looked every piece of the Jedi Knight she had imagined him to be; wandering different worlds in pursuit of a more perfect and peaceful union. She plodded slightly behind him to his right, guiding her own eopie, but carefully watching the faces of passerbys should they look familiar.

Sonika had said she would meet them outside the store with her husband, Utarri, beneath the canopy to expect their arrival and help them inside. She had not lied – beneath the familiar sign stood Sonika and Utarri, watching the traffic, shooing away customers and shaking their heads. Once she spotted the pair with their eopies, Sonika gestured to Utarri to step out into traffic and guide them around the back.

The Twi'lek man met them with a quiet dip of his head and a smile, and took their leads to guide around the back to a quiet stable, where Maridian had stabled her animals many times while visiting. Sonika pulled both her and Obi-Wan beneath the canopy and promptly wrapped her best friend into an embrace. She sounded relieved, and her breath was uneasy.

"It is good to see you well, my friend," she said into Maridian's ear, rubbing her back affectionately. She pulled back, surveyed her, and smiled. "You look well."

Maridian chuckled. "As compared to the last time you saw me, you mean?" When Sonika rolled her eyes, she playfully swatted Maridian's shoulder and threw her hands into the air before her gaze landed on Obi-Wan, who had his back to them, content on surveying the crowds and perimeter.

"And this must be Ben," she teased. The name felt odd to hear, but Maridian understood its necessity as Sonika moved around to the front of her betrothed. Obi-Wan took in her presence, blinked, and Sonika crossed her arms in front of her. "It is good to see you again, Mr. Kenobi. I hear you've got yourself a place not too far out of Talba."

He nodded, "That is correct," he looked to Maridian, "and it is good to see you again as well, Sonika."

She smiled and moved around him again, opening the door to her shop and ushering them inside. They bypassed the stores wares altogether and made their way up the stairs, to the apartment above. Once inside, the door closed with a bang, and Obi-Wan and Maridian both dropped their hoods as Sonika switched on lights and guided them through the living space, Maridian unbuttoning her cloak.

"I've arranged a place for you in the smaller room here down from mine," she gestured with her, punched the controls, and the door slid open with a slam, "you can keep your things in here, once we get them inside." She went in, navigated the lights, and slapped the bed with a hand. "It's not much, but it's a place."

"It'll be fine, Sonika," Maridian looked over to Obi-Wan, who nodded and went around the room, most obviously making sure it was secure. "I'm grateful you'll let me stay." Sonika didn't seem to notice Obi-Wan's growing paranoia, instead grinned at her and came over to wrap her in a hug again. Maridian embraced her back, tightly.

"Of course. I am so happy for you," she pulled back and wrinkled her nose, taking her friends hands in her own and giving them a friendly squeeze. She then wrapped Maridian's arm through her own and turned to face Obi-Wan, leaning dramatically to whisper into her ear, "I just never thought you'd marry a man that much –"

"Good looking?" Maridian teased. Sonika rolled her eyes, before Obi-Wan came over and took her shoulders in his hands and kissed her forehead.

"Everything looks fine," he said reassuringly, "I will go and help Utarri bring up your things. I may decide to take you around the area and survey a little," by survey, she understood him to mean attune her senses, but they shared that bit of knowledge together in the force. "I will return."

"Of course you will," she kissed his cheek and he whisked off through the room's door, his cloak billowing out behind slightly as he rounded the corner. Maridian and Sonika shared a look, before the Twi'lek shook her head and rolled her eyes, following out the way Obi-Wan had gone. Maridian trailed behind, closed the bedroom's door, and met her friend in the kitchen.

Once her things had been retrieved, Obi-Wan did as promised and escorted her outside. They went three blocks down in every direction – which would be the farthest she'd ever need to go – and he guided her through the Force to be aware of her surroundings. It was more difficult in Mos Eisley that it had been in Talba or even the hovels; with hundreds of bodies and presences in the Force, it proved a challenge to stay focused and alert. He reassured her she would get used to the change of pace, and cautioned her to be aware of her senses – that her vision from the Force was not unwarranted, and that she should remain on guard.

Somehow, they had ended up in the place where she had encountered Atonas, and she froze in place. Obi-Wan had taken her by the hand and guided her father into the alley, reassuring her that she was safe. His soothing presence in the force helped her make each step, and her eyes were locked on his own; her soul in a strange state of transcendent fear and uncertainty. She began to shake as memories flash before her eyes, and the phantom of pain came to strike her in her side, again.

"Listen to the Force, Maridian," Obi-Wan explained, "listen to the way it tells you what is wrong, and what has happened. Remember, it will alert you when you least expect it, in different ways. Learn to let it in and not dismiss it – we learn to repress memories as people, but as Jedi…we learn to know them and recognize them and use them."

She nodded her understanding, willing herself to step after him, until they came to the end of the alley. The Force punched her gut in a continuous cycle that was not necessarily painful, but evident. There was danger in the air somewhere, but Obi-Wan assured her it was only her reaction to her surroundings, and that he could sense no ill will. She swallowed a thick lump, closed her eyes, and inhaled an uneasy breath. A calmer one followed.

But still, somewhere in the distance, she could feel danger lurking. Not here, on Tatooine. Somewhere else.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

"Maridian – would you mind watching the store for a while? Utarri is out and I'm going to run and get some items for dinner –hello? You in there?"

The rapid knocking on the door was loud and hard, enough to shake the small room's wall. Maridian lifted her head from where she sat in quiet meditation on the floor, and cast a look towards the door. Her eyes had to adjust to the light filtering in through the high window, and she inhaled a calming breath of the dry, stifled air. Her stomach began to settle from his high ascension during meditation, and she blinked her eyes a series of times to clear the heaviness of her lids.

Still shaken from her vision two days earlier, she'd been trying to gather some insight through meditation as to what it could mean, but luck wasn't hers. Understanding had remained as distant as Alderaan from her, and she'd gained no insight to the vision's meaning. Her meditations were void, instead filling her with quiet peace and anticipation as she prepared for her union with Obi-Wan. She often pondered during her reflections if other women had bode her time like this, but quickly dismissed the idea - other Jedi were not like her, and did not marry. That was yet another vast difference between her and other up-and-coming Jedi.

Rising from her cross-legged position on the floor, she retrieved her boots from the end of the cot positioned in the middle of Sonika's spare room and pulled them on less than gracefully. Slightly off balance, her booted foot collided with the floor in a loud _tromp_ before she scrambled for the door. Half tempted to rip it open with the Force, she hesitated and waited until she pressed the control panel. It slid open to reveal Sonika dressed in her daily garb, with a satchel slug over her shoulder.

She gave her friend a quirky grin. "Yes, friend. I can watch the store for you." When Sonika gave her a puzzled look and glanced past her shoulder into the room, Maridian shuffled her back and stepped out of the door. "Go already," she rolled her eyes, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her as Sonika hurried out of the hallway towards the kitchen. Maridian was not far behind and watched as her Twi'lek friend gathered her things to leave.

"How long do you expect to be?" She asked, tying the top half of her hair back with a leather string that had been previously wrapped around her wrist. Sonika set to doing the same thing, instead braiding her lekku with a leather piece.

Sonika waved a dismissive hand. "Not more than a few hours. I want to stop by the spaceport and see what the off-world merchants have for wares," she finished braiding the leather strap along her elegant lekku before smacking it over her shoulder, "Utarri should be back before too long. Just getting a speeder inspected - I don't anticipate it will take him that long."

Nodding, Maridian followed her down the steps from the apartment, "Of course. I'll be fine," and shooed her out the door, practically.

Sonika waved a light goodbye before she melded into the Mos Eisley crowds and bustling myriad of color that made up the city's daily population. Maridian watched her until she faded from view, and turned to face the store from the building's single entrance. She huffed out a breath, batted aside a stray curl, and went to retrieve a dusting cloth and datapad. With time to kill, she might as well work. Sitting around for the past two days had driven her near insanity.

Midway through her dusting endeavor, Maridian was distracted by a glowing datapad on Sonika's counter, the screen dimmed slightly from dismissal, but the device ultimately unlocked. Curious, Maridian glanced at it in passing, only to find that her friend had been browsing a wedding selection with a few items flagged for review. Surprised, Maridian paged through her friend's selection, only to find measurements a tab away – her measurements, for a beautiful elegant gown of simple taste. A wrinkle of confusion dotted her brow - she hadn't been planning on wearing a traditional gown, just her simple tunic dress. Obi-Wan was wearing nothing other than his Jedi robes for their ceremony.

She didn't hear the door to the shop open until a patron was already moving towards her slowly. She felt a ripple through the Force, which popped her head up to register the patron.

Maridian relaxed instantly upon sight of Obi-Wan Kenobi standing before her, his hood pulled over his head. Sand bits trailed him into the store from his cloak, and he checked over his shoulder, presumably for anyone who could've followed. He wandered past a selection of cloth, removing his hood with a gentle wave of his hand until he arrived at the counter. He gave her a light smirk, rested his palms flat on the counter, and quirked a brow at her.

Her heart fluttered lightly, and she felt like her knees would cave beneath her. Maridian's fingers began to tingle. "Come to buy something, stranger?" she teased. She rested her elbows on the counter and plopped her chin in a hand. The other snaked across the counter-top to brush aside the sleeve of his cloak, to expose his hand for her to touch him. "Or did you just miss me?"

He chuckled at her. "I wanted to see how you were doing," he gestured around the room with a wave of his hand, "though it doesn't seem like I have just cause in two days of being away." At her smile, he grinned broadly, "but, then again, seeing you is always cause enough." He folded his arms on the counter and matched her expression, now eye-level with her.

She blushed, broke their stare, and shoved the datapad across the counter to him. "What's this?" He asked, lighting the screen to its highest capacity. His eyes dropped and he began to scour the datapad.

Maridian circled around the counter to stand beside him as he looked through the datapad, lifting an arm to welcome her. She wrapped her arms around his middle, rested her head against his chest, heaving a sigh of great relief. "Sonika is planning my wedding and hasn't even told me," she said with a snort, and gestured to the datapad, "what do you think?"

Obi-Wan was quiet a moment, before he pushed the device away and turned to rest his back against the counter, taking her fully in his arms. He lifted a hand to move aside the unruly curls from her face, the ragged cloak brushing her skin with an uneven and slightly bristled whisk. His thumb was calloused and warm, and she noted particles of sand in his beard. His blue-grey eyes, though, captured her full attention.

He gave her a half smile. "I think," he started, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers, "that I don't care much about an elaborate ceremony, and that I want to marry you no matter how or where I make my vows."

She rested her cheek against his chest and nodded her agreement. "I couldn't agree more," she complied and let her head fall back to stare up at him, "but you're breaking the news to Sonika." They shared a light round of laughter before she closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose into the front of his cloak, "I didn't think it was possible to fall in love with someone as fast as I fell in love with you, Obi-Wan."

He was quiet for a long moment, content to just stroke her hair and look out the window. She looked up at him again and blinked away the warm air of Sonika's store, ultimately ignoring the perspiration forming between her shoulders. Sonika had forced her into a ritual bath 2 days in a row that had done wonders to clean her skin and moisturize her from head to toe – her skin disorder was calmed, at least for now, despite the heavy, weighted air of the pending Tatooine winter. Her friend had insisted on baths every afternoon in preparation for her marriage, despite Maridian's resistance. She highly doubted Sonika would let her escape the endeavor tonight, especially after spending the afternoon working up a sweat.

Ever nerve within her was alive at his touch. Maridian had forgotten what life was outside of Obi-Wan Kenobi since he'd arrived on Tatooine so long ago. Nothing felt the same anymore. Now, for almost a week, she had lived without the heavy burden of her family's debt and the crippling fear of Talor's veiled threats. Once, she would've cursed Obi-Wan's arrival as the initiator of her problems, but that wasn't the case, anymore.

Now, she almost felt wholly joyful again at the prospect of marrying such a wonderful, safe man. Marriage, just months ago, had been a imprisoning chain to her – a death sentence of her freedom and independence. At this moment, however, it was all she could think about. Obi-Wan was a promise of a complete, secure future that would be stable and forthright. To have won the heart of not only a lovely man but also a Jedi was almost unfathomable, even now.

He dropped his gaze from the window and looked back down to her. "I wasn't ever sure I would love again, Maridian," she understood him to be talking about the previous love he shared for a Mandalorian Dutchess, as well as a fellow Jedi. He continued, "Now I understand that love evolves, and that each time it finds us, it is different than it was before. I have never been happier than I am right now, and I thank you for that." He embraced her strongly and added, "The Force doesn't respect time, my dear. It was the will of the Force that brought you to me, and it is its will that you stay. That is all that matters."

She sighed a contented breath, and drew back from him, grabbing at the front of his cloak to beckon him further down to her. "Well said, Master Jedi," was her reply, and she guided him down to kiss her – _hard._

Her stomach soared into her chest and her heart began to hammer against her ribs with the strength of a racing bantha, and she suddenly couldn't breathe. Her breath was restored as it mingled with his, however, and her concerns were lost. She wrapped an arm around his neck and dared to trace her tongue along his bottom lip, and he pulled her closer –when the mold of her body fell against his, the Jedi Master let out a contented groan and Maridian swore she felt his knees buckle.

A few moments (and questionable thoughts) later, he pulled away and let his head fall back. Obi-Wan heaved a heavy breath, ran his hand through his hair, and shuffled her back a step. Out of breath, warm, and suddenly wanting more, she wrapped an arm around her abdomen and brushed her hair over her shoulder, just staring at him. They both were covered in a sheen coat of perspiration, and she tried not to tremble with anticipation.

He looked past her shoulder to the door, and a wrinkle of confusion dotted his brow. Something had moved through the Force. This signaled her to look over her shoulder, but when she found no one, she turned fully and approached the door. Obi-Wan, however, caught her hand and drug her back, lacing his arms around her abdomen and pulling her against his chest. She stared out the window, concern mottling her brow.

She closed her eyes. "Why do I feel like someone is always watching me?" She asked, softly.

He nuzzled his nose against the pulse-point in her neck. "In a galaxy this distressed, that is never a bad thing to feel. One can never be too cautious," he pressed a soft kiss to the spot where her pulse was rampaging furiously, and added, "Especially when you are soon to be married to a Jedi Master."

* * *

Asajj Ventress stared into the lifeless eyes of the splayed out guard beneath her, registering only momentarily the man's small presence in the Force blink out of existence. Satisfied that he was dead, she began riffling through his pockets for the security badge; when suddenly the doors behind her slammed open with a metallic _bang._

Her head snapped up, registering the two guards arriving on scene over her shoulder. One was female, the other male, and they both tugged their blasters up from their holsters to take aim at her. Growling under her breath, the bounty hunter flipped the dead guard's from the holster just behind her right hip, twisted, and blasted the two dead before they'd even focused their aim. With the assistance of the Force, things went faster than anticipated, and soon the corridor was silent.

There would be other guards coming to relieve shifts, so she had to dispose of the bodies quickly. Scanning the keycard, the door's security panel went from red, to yellow to green, and released. She made quick work of hauling the guards into the office, stuffed them against the wall, and closed the doors loudly. Making sure her face was hidden from the cameras positioned in the office, she moved with effortless steps towards the desk.

Bail Organa's desk was immaculately clean and organized, much like the rest of the man's operation. Ventress took special care to sort through the information at her disposal, taking note of the personal affects perfectly organized around his office. When she found nothing in the desk, she moved to the bookcase across the office.

Finding nothing from her rifling, she mumbled a curse beneath her mask and registered the red, blinking icon on her comm-link. Swiping it away, she glanced around the rest of the office for any other clue as to where Bail Organa would keep information on his rumored Rebel resistance. She clamped her jaw, stammered another curse, and looked back to the bookcase.

There was a projected holo of Organa's wife, cradling a swaddled baby while looking down lovingly into the child's face. Ventress scowled at the joyous picture, rolled her eyes, and looked to the dead guards across the office against the wall. Organa wasn't due back to Alderaan for another few weeks, which made it difficult to plan an all-out assault on his fortress. The idiots back on Tatooine were getting restless, and there would be no way to carry out an assault alone without the proper forces – especially since Jabba had not been thrilled with the idea of waiting for his credits. And, she was restless enough to kill Kenobi as it was already.

Breaking into Organa's office had been easy enough for a simple recon, but the complication of the guards added a layer of challenge she hadn't prepared for. Now she'd have to cover up her tracks or risk being exposed. It wasn't a large complication – she could make it look like a resistance uprising easy enough. There were Alderaan contacts in the city's underworld that would gladly take credit. She'd just have to steal intel that would make it worth the effort, at the very least.

She exhaled a frustrated breath, and rolled her foot to stretch her thigh. She glanced back to the holoimage on the bookcase, releasing a hissing breath. An idea struck the back of her mind with all the power of the Force, and she stepped towards the image. Snatching it from the shelf, she rested the device in her palm. The image flickered with the movement.

She may not have been able to take Bail Organa's fortress, but she was fairly certain she could take his house.

* * *

Twilight was beginning to set over Mos Eisley when Maridian and Obi-Wan decided to spend their evening together outside, beneath the store's canopy. They ate their meal apart from their hosts, who kept a watchful eye on them from the second story of their home.

The population of Mos Eisley had retreated indoors for the evening, as was the usual routine for the city during the twilight hours. It was almost eerily quiet with an edge of uncertainty, as if the city would at any moment erupt with roaring activity as it did over the day. Shops were closed down, and the streets were empty save the few doting pedestrians and animals. A breezed picked up and shuffled sand and litter across the expanse of street spanning from Sonika and Utarri's meager corner of the city.

Obi-Wan rested his back against the canopy's support, one leg lazily draped over the step to sway back and forth. Maridian sat on the step below him, her back resting against his chest. He gently ran his thumb over her knuckles while his other hand was absent-mindedly spinning a curl around his index finger. They sat in silence, watching the suns disappear over the city scape.

After a moment more of silence, Obi-Wan twisted to retrieve something from the pack resting beside him. Maridian sat forward and turned to watch his efforts, suddenly curious. After a few moments, he took a worn, bound book from the pack and brushed the dust off the front cover. Surprised, Maridian's brow rose a few inches over her left eye and she tucked a curl behind her ear – she'd never seen a flimsi book up close before. They were too expensive, and rare. Obi-Wan held the book in his hand, looking down at the front cover for a few moments too long before he looked back up at her.

He cleared his throat, "This was given to me by my master when I was still a padawan," he kept his voice low, "It was passed from Master to Padawan in succession – this copy has been in the hands of masters I have known and others who exist as only legends.

It has played a significant part in my journey as a Jedi, and I cherish it dearly. Thoughts and observations have been recorded in our handwriting scrawled on the pages – some beneficial, others not. I had given it to Anakin, before…" He had to exhale sharply and shake his head as if to cast off the memory, "…through its teachings, I gained a better understanding of the Jedi way. I've striven hard to retain its knowledge," he smiled at her and kissed the back of her hand chastely, "at least, some of its points, and am honored to have been one to preserve its wisdoms. With that being said, Maridian – I want you to read it and glean from it the same knowledge I did as a young student of the Force." He looked over her shoulder, as if scanning the area. "But you must keep it safe, Maridian. It is dangerous to have in these times.

Dumbfounded and overwhelmed, she stared at the book for a long, silent moment in his hand. She then diverted her eyes up to his, and held his gaze for a moment before she took the book gingerly. Thumbing through the pages, each overthrown with handwritten scrawls, she closed the book and thrust it back to him, shaking her head, no. The glaring words _The Jedi Path_ , were faded in basic, but still stared at her harshly. The Force seemed to move within her, pushing to absorb the words; revered by the book's wisdoms and brimming knowledge. She suddenly craved the book unlike she'd ever craved anything before.

Reality socked her in the gut, however. Maridian suddenly remembered the Empire, and Talor, and the danger this book promised. It hallowed her core almost immediately, despite her attempts to quench fear. "I can't take this," she handed it back, "it's far too valuable." She rested the book in her lap when he didn't take it from her and gestured to it with a hand, "Why give it to me now? Why not just wait until we're together?" She checked over her shoulder again and made sure her voice was low.

Obi-Wan picked the book back up and dusted off the cover again, yet another layer of age, wisdom, and dust seeming to brush off. "I want you to read it, Maridian, before we're…one. I want to give you the chance to absorb the information yourself without my influence." He paused before looking up from the book to her, "And if there is anything in this book that would hinder your marriage to me, I'd like you to know now, rather than after the deed is done."

A flaming sorrow scorched her heart at that moment and she yanked the book from his hands, dropping it between them again, and face down. Then, she took Obi-Wan's and drew them to her face, where he voluntarily cupped his palms against her cheek. She kept his hands in place and then managed to shake her head. A constricting power sent pressure to her chest that was almost unbearable. Her throat almost felt concaved.

"There isn't anything this book will tell me that would keep me from marrying you, Obi-Wan," she offered him a faint smile, "Not even the Jedi Order." She then reached for the book, held it up, and smacked it with the back of her hand to emphasize her point. "But I will read it, if that is what you desire."

He nodded. "Thank you," before he drew her face to him and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. A shiver ran down her spine that was delightfully warm, and she smiled at him, trying her best not to melt into a puddle at his feet.

"You are welcome. Now, I suppose you'd better go," she looked up to the sky to find the suns entirely gone, and darkness was befalling the city in growing blackness by the second, "before it gets much darker." He nodded his understanding, and she gathered the book, crossing her arms over it to draw it to her chest.

They both rose, "Have you and Papa decided on a date yet?"

He nodded, "Yes. Next week."

Her stomach rolled with excitement. "And our journey to Anchorhead?"

Obi-Wan grinned at her, winked, and rolled his eyes. "I will retrieve you the day after tomorrow," he gestured to her with a hand, "so be ready."

It was customary for the bridegroom and father of bridge to choose the marriage date, and it was customary for the husband to file for the license. Considering that Obi-Wan was not a native resident of Tatooine and Maridian was, they would need to venture to Anchorhead and petition the government for approval. She didn't anticipate it would be a problem – Obi-Wan was already a landowner under the name of Ben Kenobi, so it would not be difficult to prove his citizenship. What would be challenging would be the transfer of funds – her father's business to Obi-Wan's name. Tatooine politics were difficult on every count, but not impossible.

She rose on the tip of her toes, nuzzled her nose against his, and kissed the corner of his mouth lightly, "I already am ready," she replied, him bypassing her with a quick kiss to the cheek.

He moved down the stairs gracefully, cloak following him, and pulled the hood over his head before disappearing into the coming darkness smoothly.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Author's Note:** What? Two updates in a week? That's right - I've had some spare time on my hands at work, so I've decided to hit this piece really hard in hopes of concluding it before the summer months. I'm currently gauged in a _Star Wars: The Old Republic_ piece that I'm exceptionally excited about (as my love for _Theron Shan_ steadily evolves), and would like to focus some of my efforts there. But, I am also determined to conclude this piece.

Not sure why reviews have dropped off with this so much - trusting you guys will come back with a vengeance and leave some thoughts behind. We're really started to delve into the plot of _Ben_ now, as secrets are coming about the plot continues to take shape. As you may have noticed, _Asajj Ventress_ revealed herself in the last chapter - I was uncertain when I wanted to reveal her, and debated about bringing her into the light later, but decided against it. Now seems like a good time to introduce her character by name (trusting you all had an idea in earlier chapters) and thrust her back into _Obi-Wan_ 's life.

Be aware - this takes the story into slightly AU territory (of course, it's already there with the entire Jedi-falling-in-love thing and _Ventress_ returning from the grave). I've finally _**revealed Maridian's lineage**_ **,** as many of you were probably wondering where she got her Force-abilities from (and no, it's not just from her mother). Be aware - it's very AU. But what else does fanfiction exist for?

Please - enjoy the update, and drop a note on the way out! I'm missing you guys! Also, take a sneaky peek at my new _Star Wars: The Old Republic_ release, _New Intelligance._ I'm eager to get started with it - if you don't have much knowledge on _The Old Republic_ , I'd be happy to enlighten you in PM's. It's a fascinating era of Star Wars history, and I hope you come to love it as much as I do.

* * *

Obi-Wan made the journey home in contemplative silence, the speeder bike beneath him the only sound for miles across the endless desert. Darkness had splayed its fingers across the Tatooine sky, riddling it with pinpricks of stars. He hoped the mechanic roar of the speeder would be enough to stave off prowling desert predators – and when he stretched out his senses to browse for dangers; his hypothesis was correct.

He contemplated his conversation with Maridian earlier about the flimsi book he had passed along to her. While the Jedi Master in him reveled in the act, a part of him burned with concern. _The Jedi Path_ had withstood generations of ancestry within the lineage of the Jedi, and had been a significant part of his training as he'd studied under Qui-Gon Jinn. It's wisdom were unsurpassed. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made a horrible mistake as he guided his bike towards the hovel – why, he wasn't entirely sure. All Obi-Wan knew was that something did not sit right in the Force, and try as he might to uncover the source, nothing came to him.

He needed to delve into the welcoming arms of meditation. Upon his arrival home, he stripped off his cloak and boots and brushed the sand from his tunic to settle in for the night beside his cot. Realizing that sooner rather than later he would need to invest in something larger for his upcoming marriage, he fell into his meditation, listening to the night's sounds slowly fall away under his breathing.

As it had been for weeks, it was difficult to settle his thoughts and enter meditation. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it was because of the shift in the Force with the Jedi's extermination, or if it was his unease about Anakin's son, or even if it was his uncertainty in marrying Maridian. Whatever it was, there was a difficulty in finding meditative peace and the usual presence of the mellow calm he had felt in past years. Something wasn't right – something hadn't been right since the night Maridian had been attacked, though he'd been prone to ignore it.

 _Perhaps this is a mistake_ , he asked himself quietly, trying to press into the warm light of the Force, _perhaps abandoning the Code is wrong…and_ almost as soon as the thought finished forming in his mind, Obi-Wan dismissed it.

Qui-Gon had always tried to instill in him a desire for helping others of any species to achieve a sense of service. Jedi after all, he'd argued, were servants of the Republic – and not just the government's ideals, but its people. More often than not Obi-Wan had pushed aside his Master's tendency towards attachment – Qui-Gon had never had a seat on the Council because of his radicalism. He took his ideals too far and stretched them farther, and that had created a rift between him and his former Master.

And now, flying in the face of everything Obi-Wan had argued as an adhering Jedi, he felt closer to his Master's words than he ever had. He felt now that he'd given them justice – he felt _whole_ , just as Qui-Gon had tried to explain to him so many decades ago.

 _Better late than never_ , he reassured himself. Exhaling a calming breath, Obi-Wan pressed his senses farther into the Force, and fell into meditation.

* * *

He ventured to the Hail farm the next morning before the suns could reach their full capacity in the sky, as he had every day since Maridian's departure to Mos Eisley. To his surprise, he found the family's speeder bike parked out front. Remy was busy checking the repulsor lifts and hover-plate situated beneath the bike, laid out on her back in the sands as she reached up beneath it. It didn't surprise him - the entire Hail family was more equipped and handy than he himself was an educated Jedi, down to the youngest member of their family.

Remy was covered in sand from head to toe, and the wrap she was wearing was stained with what looked like fuel, sweat, and dirt. She hummed a tune as she worked, which brought a lopsided grin to Obi-Wan's face.

He approached the bike and triggered her attention. She rolled her head back in the sand to look up at him. The girl grinned, scrambled out from beneath the bike and snapped up on the other side, coming around to pummel him in an embrace. She buried her cheek in his chest and relaxed comfortably against him. Politely, he embraced her back before drawing her away and wrinkling his brow at her in confusion.

Brushing aside her hair where it mingled with the end of her head-wrap, he chuckled, "What are you up to, Remy? Aren't you a bit young to be tending to the mechanics of a speeder bike?" He knew immediately that she wasn't, but couldn't teasing her about it.

She shrugged her shoulders forward at the mention of her youth. "Henna is busy in the barn transferring grain. I can't lift the sacks." She brushed the head wrap out from her face and thumbed over her shoulder towards the bike, "And the bike needs prepped for your trip to Anchorhead." The girl wiped her brow with the back of her wrapped hand, a wrench in her grip. A smudge of dirt remained as she drew her hand away. "Besides, Maridian worked on the bikes all the time when she was my age. She taught me how."

He grinned at her and nodded, swiping away the smudge with his thumb. Of course her sister had passed along her knowledge - she was as eager to teach as she was to learn, yet another quality that he loved about her. "Well, you leave the speeder to me, and go help your sister."

With a nod, she passed the tool along to him and rushed towards the barn, stopping by way of the paddock to duck inside and playfully rustle the bantha's inside. He watched her carefully as she danced between the stocks, giggling and laughing loudly. Sensing no danger from the large stock, he observed her until she disappeared into the barn and the door closed behind her.

Tossing the tool next to the other instruments on the bike, Obi-Wan descended into the family's home in search of Bartholomew. As he looked around, he had the odd feeling that this place was more of a home to him than even the Jedi Temple had been. Obi-Wan had never before sensed such a belonging and purpose within beings outside of the Force's reach, but he did here, even in Maridian's absence.

He found Bartholomew at his desk; stacks of old datapads and records surrounding him in half-hazard piles. The man had worked up a sweat which stained the back of his shirt, and Obi-Wan announced his presence by clearing his throat. He wiped the sweat from his temple with his sleeve, relieved to be sheltered from the stifling heat.

"Bartholomew," he offered as a greeting.

He stopped his rummaging and looked up, swiveling his chair to face Obi-Wan. "Ben," he chuckled haggardly, wiping the back of his hand along his brow to mop the perspiration, "I'm glad you're here. I'm wondering if you'd be so kind as to stay the afternoon and help mend some fencing? Maridian usually does it, and I'm afraid Henna doesn't know the first thing about fences."

Obi-Wan nodded, leaned against the desk, and folded his arms across his chest, "Of course," was his reply.

He nodded, pleased. "Am I right in assuming you saw Maridian yesterday?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, "Yes, I went to see her yesterday. She is well." He rubbed his beard in contemplation, "Eager to be home, but she is safe."

He nodded his approval and sighed in relief. "That is good," he went back to his rummaging, "Maridian has always had an affinity to get into trouble. She was quite the rambunctious child – you can imagine how difficult it was to keep her… _abilities_ curbed."He sat back, looking down to the cracked datapad in his lap only to shake his head, "Her mother was always very good at it. She knew how to focus Maridian's talents and keep them off the radar. Somehow she managed to encourage Maridian to embrace it all while simultaneously teaching her restraint. I never compared."

He gestured to a stack of datapads on the corner of the desk, "Would you mind sorting those by year, please?"

Curiosity piqued, Obi-Wan's brow fell into a concerned wrinkle. The language he used to regale the memory was not unlike that of a Jedi. It was very rare that parents understood – much less, could handle – a child's Force-sensitivity. Usually many parents just coped with their children's abilities, and if they were fortunate, their children would be gathered by the Jedi – and if unfortunate, the Sith could collect those who met qualifications. But for parents to encourage their children to embrace their place within the Force was… _odd_ , to say the least. And to teach restraint? That was unheard of outside the Jedi Temple.

He pushed himself off the wall, grabbed a stack of datapads, and started sorting through them as requested. He gnawed on his bottom lip, unsure of what the Force was telling him. He glanced back at Bartholomew – Maridian's mother had been gone since she was a seven-year-old girl, and he had never pressed the issue with her, sensing it was a sensitive subject. He knew she had died expectantly, and that Maridian had felt the responsibility to look after sisters as more of a mother than an older sibling. It was evidenced by the age in her eyes, as well as the features on her face.

His eyes lingered over the faded screen of the pad in his hand, and he carefully worded his next phrase.

"Maridian hasn't spoken of her mother," he started slowly, "it sounds like she was a remarkable woman." He was careful to cast Bartholomew a compassionate glance as he sorted through the stack. Once he finished, he started on another, watching Bartholomew's efforts slow as he faded into thought.

He chuckled and shook his head, looking back down to his work. A smile floated onto his face. "She was a wonderful woman," he nodded, his lips flattening together, "full of life and passionate ideas. She had great potential." He looked up to Obi-Wan and laughed, "She should've never married me, you know." He fell back in his chair and shook his head, "But, I knew from the moment I met her that she was going to be my wife."

He continued, "Maridian reminds me so much of her. She has the same spirit and vitality. Her mother was always tenacious," he raked his fingers through his hair, "Sometimes it's difficult for me. Especially now with Maridian's… _abilities_. I am thankful there is someone to take her mother's place as a mentor. I wasn't sure what the child would be like when she was born, and neither did her mother. I wasn't sure I would be able to fill the role of her father."

Obi-Wan's brow rose in shocked surprise. Now, he was certainly confused. A dash of red blossomed on his cheeks as his uncertainty flustered in his chest. The former Jedi stopped sorting through his second stack of datapads and turned to face Bartholomew, his features wrinkled in confusion as his mind desperately swirled for reason. Something pushed through the Force and pinned him with heightened awareness.

"Maridian, she..." he started, shaking his head slowly as if the pieces of random information would suddenly fall together in his mind, " – she is your daughter, Bartholomew?" He was surprised at the uneasy tinge in his tone.

The man froze in place and closed his eyes, releasing a heavy-laden breath of air through his nose. He suddenly looked much older than Obi-Wan remembered, as if the memories in his head aged him with each remembrance. He replaced the stack of datapads from his lap back on the desk, and then swiveled to navigate towards the kitchen. Obi-wan followed him passively, his brow wrinkled in what seemed to be a permanent concern.

He waved Obi-Wan to follow him over his shoulder. "I suppose you are the one who should know, since you are marrying my daughter. Better to say it now than to address it later, when things could escalate."

Now fear pitted itself in Obi-Wan's stomach, which surprised him – as a Jedi he'd learned to curb fear at its very first inkling, and he'd been successful in doing so up to this point. He swallowed a lump of concern that had swollen in his throat, and he had the same trepidation inside of him that he had felt when Anakin had become his padawan. It was like a thousand icy needles piercing through his skin and down through his bones to leave him empty.

Once Obi-Wan slid into a seat across from Bartholomew, the man folded his hands on the table and looked up to lock eyes with his future son-in-law. Obi-Wan sensed the man's fear and uncertainty, as well as his sorrow and regret, as if it were his own. It was a familiar feeling, these days, and he briefly wondered if it had transfered from his spirit to Bartholomew's. Upon further inspection, however, he surmised that the man had his own dosage of remorse and that he didn't need Obi-Wan's. His eyes didn't betray his emotions, instead revealing them like an open book. Obi-Wan braced himself for whatever the man could say – anything seemed to surprise him, these days.

He clearned his throat, tipping his head to the side slightly. "I met Maridian's mother when I was still working in Anchorhead. I was minding a vendor's booth when we happened onto each other by accident," he rubbed the bridge of nose, letting out an exasperated breath of exhaustion, and then folded his hands together. "I don't know where she was going, but she stopped under my canopy." He heaved a sigh and pulled his eyes up to Obi-Wan with painstaking grief, "She was an offworlder," came the murmur, "and she was beautiful – unlike anything I'd ever seen. She had life and a strength I'd never before witnessed in any other girl on Tatooine…" After a long pause, he scrubbed his face with a hand and his shoulders slumped forward, "...she was also pregnant."

Unsure if he should respond, Obi-Wan bridled his tongue and curbed his curiosity, for the time being. He was hoping that Bartholomew would volunteer the bits of information he was looking for, and in the man's next breath, he was not disappointed.

"She was almost unconscious when I picked her up off street," he shook his head, "and she was weak, alone, and exhausted. I nursed her back to health and got to know her. She told me she was from the Core Worlds – at first. As she regained her strength, her beauty grew, and I was infatuated with her. I imagine she grew attached to me so quickly because I was the only man she knew in Anchorhead, but it didn't matter." He chuckled, "I won her over somehow, and we married in the spring, after her child was born.

When Maridian's likeness began to unfold even as an infant, her mother told me everything," he hesitated, giving Obi-Wan an offset look, "I told myself I would never tell anyone – she made me promise that I'd never tell Maridian. But," he covered his face with a hand, and Obi-Wan saw his face flush to a ashen-white color, "seeing as you are going to marry her, and your children could have the same fate, I am justified." He smacked his hands on the table solidly, and he ground out slowly, "Maridian's mother was a Jedi Master, Ben."

It socked Obi-Wan in the gut so hard that he sat back sharply, the wind gone from his lungs as if they'd been deflated like a balloon. He felt his stomach convulse in ways that he knew were abnormal, and pressure compressed his heart so tightly that it threatened to pop out of his chest and onto the table across from Bartholomew. A million questions floated through his mind – the first and foremost being: _Should I tell him_?

He decided to abstain from the question as the man snorted and chuckled with what sounded like a sarcastic tone, "Yeah, imagine my surprise. She warned me that our daughter could be Force sensitive, since she – and the child's father – were Jedi."

Obi-Wan's throat almost swelled closed. His heart was throbbing painfully - he thought for a moment he would throw up. The pulse in his neck was racing so furiously he imagined the vein in his neck had exploded - the vein his forehead was already protruding. He slowly exhaled a breath and propped his elbows on the table, steeping his fingers beneath his nose. He was dizzy like he never had been before.

After a moment of contemplation, he called upon the Force for clarity and peace, and managed to ask quietly, "What was her mother's name, Bartholomew?"

He pinched his eyes shut, bracing for the answer. Adrenaline fueled him A part of him desired to know, while the other parts screamed in furious defeat. It was the fight or flight response to adrenaline, and unfortunately, Obi-Wan had always been a fighter. He swallowed back an uneasy breath.

Bartholomew hesitated only a moment before answering. "Wrennan. Her mother's name was Wrennan Ansor."

Obi-Wan's head snapped up, hurled into the cold reality - the name was all too familiar to him. A swelling grief crashed through his soul, which caused his eyes to widen in astonishment. There was the simultaneous feeling of betrayal and sorrow that stapled itself in his heart, one that was matched equally with guilt and confusion. He tried to crush the growing surprise in his gut, but couldn't. There were too many unanswered questions, and too much adrenaline coursing through his body.

Wrennan Ansor had been one of the apprentices influenced by Count Dooku before he had fallen to the dark side. Obi-Wan had heard her name often from the lips of Qui-Gon Jinn, as he often reflected on teachings that were all but clear from his time as a padawan. Obi-Wan understood that during one point, Qui-Gon had been close with Wrennan, and they'd often been partnered together as padawans to undertake minor assignments. Though Qui-Gon had never mentioned a romantic relationship with Wrennan, Obi-Wan had always wondered if something had ever blossomed between them – later, he knew, his Master had grown to love another Jedi, Tahl, until her death at the battle of New Apsolon, when Obi-Wan himself had only been Jinn's apprentice.

A dumb-founded and ruffled Obi-Wan leaned forward on his elbows and pinned Bartholomew with the next question."Did your wife ever mention who Maridian's father was?" He dared, trying to level his voice and keep it from the stony betrayal he felt rising in his gut. A part of him already knew the answer before the man revealed it - one of the many benefits of being Force-sensitive.

Bartholomew ducked his eyes away and nodded slowly. "He went by the name Jinn," he pinched his eyes shut, "that's all she ever told me."

Obi-Wan's eyes closed heavily, and he felt his shoulder's sink in defeat. _Oh, Master._ He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he could not dismiss it. As much as he wanted to will away the information, Obi-Wan knew it would forever follow him – Maridian was the child of Qui-Gon Jinn. He was _marrying_ his Master's _daughter_. Irony like he'd never before experienced swelled a growing pressure in his abdomen, and it slammed his organ's against the cavity of his body. One by one he could almost feel them seep into unidentified piles of muck. The reality was as harsh as a lightsaber blow.

Bartholomew continued, regardless of Obi-Wan's state and desperation for him to stop. "We agreed that the child should take my name, lest her birth taint the father's reputation. Wrennan never spoke of him." He raked his fingers across his scalp, rustling his thinning, grey hair as he did so. "I'm not sure she ever told him that he had a child. She told me later that he was in love with another woman, and that curbed the issue. We agreed that Maridian wouldn't be raised in Order lest he find out about her."

Suddenly, Obi-Wan was filled with rage. "And you never told Maridian?" He spat out, his voice loud with venom, "You decided it would be best for her that she never knew both of her parents were Jedi Masters?" He scraped his chair back loudly and flew out of it, flinging his hands in the air out of exasperation, "All this time Maridian has been wondering about her ability within the Force – thinking something is _wrong_ with her – and you knew all along that her father and mother were trained in the Jedi Order!" His tone was louder than he imagined it being, obvious by Bartholomew's shocked expression and abrupt straightening of his spine.

He frowned at the exiled Jedi, shaking his head. "We decided it would be best if she didn't know, and that her mother would raise her quietly here in Talba and teach her to control her abilities. She died giving birth to Remy," he smacked the table, rising to meet Obi-Wan's tone, "what was I supposed to do? I was alone with three daughters – one with Force abilities – and a business to run. I was so overcome with grief when Wrennan died," he hovered out of the kitchen to follow Obi-Wan, "I…I didn't know how to raise her!"

Obi-Wan whirled on him. "She was seven years old, Bartholomew! She was still young enough for the Jedi to have contemplated taking her in!" He grabbed at his hair, "You could have sent her to be properly trained –"

The man sobered up instantly, shocked by the revelation. "And what? Forfeit a life away from my daughter? Maridian is dear to me as if she were my own blood – I couldn't send her away to the Order that rejected her mother! Wrennan never would've wanted that," he quieted and shook his head, "She never would've forgiven me if I'd sent her away. She never wanted the father to know –"

Obi-Wan sneered at the man, "He never would've found out," something that resembled livid anger rumbled through his chest, though his Jedi training instantly flagged the emotion and checked it with the pummeling Jedi mantra: _There is no passion, there is serenity…there is no chaos..._

He continued, "Qui-Gon Jinn is dead."

Bartholomew's head snapped up and back as if it had been ripped from his shoulders, and his eyes swelled open like someone had grabbed his throat and simultaneously squeezed it in a throttle hold. The pallor of his face turned ghostly pale, and all color seemed to drain from his eyes. His face almost seemed to melt. Fear erupted on every line on his skin, and he cradled his head in his hands and began to rock back and forth. He quietly began whimpering.

Obi-Wan, for a fraction of a second, forced himself to belief that he had not said what he had felt. It became a shocking realization when Bartholomew began to mutter, "Oh Wrennan, what have I done…?" over and over that he _had_ spoken the words out loud. He struggled furiously to catch his breath and chill the flaming blood in his veins that seemed to almost burst with heat. He felt every fractious movement of the Force in painstaking detail. It hammered itself through his mind over and over, reminding him of what he had just done.

 _You have to tell him, now._ Sighing heavily only to rub the bridge of his nose, Obi-Wan carefully crafted his next statement.

"Bartholomew," he said heavily, "It's prudent that you know that Qui-Gon Jinn was an accomplished and respected Jedi Master," he sank to his haunches and scrubbed his face with a hand before looking up to the man across the room, who pinned him with a confused and baffled expression. Obi-Wan continued, "…Qui-Gon Jinn was my mentor many years ago. I was a Jedi Master during the Clone Wars. My name was Obi-Wan Kenobi before the Order fell." He hesitated only a moment, willing his voice not to crack with the shaming sorrow he felt rise in his chest, "…I am in exile, Bartholomew."

Bartholomew gazed at him, unmoving. His eyes darted back and forth in thought, seemingly lost in the ocean of knowledge, before a flash of red dashed up his neck to explode on his nose. Obi-Wan instantly regretted his decision to reveal his past history to the man, but he knew it was for the best – Bartholomew deserved to know who his daughter was marrying, and the danger that could lie in wait. It grieved Obi-Wan's heart to think about. Shame thrust into his soul like a blowing lightsaber jab.

For an instant Obi-Wan was fearful that the revealed knowledge would cause Bartholomew to remove his blessing on his engagement to Maridian. He hadn't considered the man would despise Qui-Gon Jinn for what had happened to Master Wrennan, but Obi-Wan couldn't imagine it. Bartholomew was perhaps one of kindest men Obi-Wan had ever known, and he couldn't believe for a moment that Bartholomew would harbor bitterness towards a dead man who had loved his wife perhaps as equally as he had, at one point. He swallowed a breath and searched the Force for any signs of renewed and withheld anger – and found none. Relief flooded him.

Bartholomew said quietly, "I…I see," and the man's gaze fell to his lap, where he nodded his understanding. "You are hiding from the Empire," he said quietly, adding, "That is why you are so concerned for Maridian. They could be looking for you."

The Jedi Master decided it was best to reveal the mystery of Luke Skywalker now, lest any question arise later. He swore off any more secrecy – they were tending to be too dangerous in family affairs, and Obi-Wan wanted, for the first time in his life, to live in the truth of being human. He'd been hiding so long from his emotions and quelling his ability to feel as a man his entire life; he wanted a clean slate, especially with the his betrothed's family.

Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his beard. He nodded slowly, "That is right. I came to Tatooine to hide not only myself, but my apprentice's son, and assumed the name Ben Kenobi. My charge lives not far from here, with Owen Lars – I bear the responsibility to watch over him and make sure he is raised outside the reach of the Empire," he released a breath, "I did not want to tell you, lest I compromise you and your family's safety – and, Maridian agreed with me." At this, Bartholomew looked up at him, tears brimming on the edge of his eyes, "But now, I see no other choice."

He didn't hesitate to respond immediately. "I understand," Bartholomew nodded that understanding; voice tentative with the next words, "A Jedi Master. How relieved Wrennan would be."

He looked up as Obi-Wan rose from his crouched position to approach the man. He clapped a strong hand on Bartholomew's shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I…I am sorry," the man said quietly, dragging his attention away from Obi-Wan's stare in renewed shame and guilt, "I…should've told you. All this time you had sensed Maridian's abilities and I withheld knowledge from you - knowledge that could've gotten you both killed."

Obi-Wan was silent.

Bartholomew let the silence grow between them for a moment before breathing, "I do not know how Maridian will react to the news about her father. She was raised with me as her father – it's all she knows." He swallowed a thick gulp, "I...I don't know how to tell her."

Obi-Wan shook his head, no. "She will be upset," he concluded, heaving a sigh, "but she will not be upset forever. If anything, this should drive her to study the ways of the Jedi more reverently, knowing her mother was a Master and that is what she would have desired." After a moment of silence, he added, "I promise you, Bartholomew – I will take care of her. I will teach her everything that I know. She will not have the same fate as I had – she will be safe."

He paused, "I swear to it on my very life."

Bartholomew looked up at him, took Obi-Wan's face in his hands, and gave a solid nod of understanding. Obi-Wan's stomach dropped into his feet only a moment before it soared with pride and acceptance like it hadn't since before Qui-Gon's death.

"I know you will, son. I know you will."


	35. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Author's Note:** Annnd, have another update! Just because my weekend will be busy! I decided to post another update for you guys in hopes that it will satiate my creativity for the weekend, since I'll be away from the computer for the majority of the time. Maybe I'll return to updates on Monday if I am not busy again at work.

Be advised – _**this isn't the end**! _ I know you're going to think it is, but be aware, it isn't. I intend to move this piece forward still (there's a lot that needs to happen, yet) so don't panic, and please don't rush to the escape pods yet! We have a journey to finish!

Hopefully you've traversed over to _New Intelligence_ , my _The Old Republic_ release, and given that a look. I'm excited to get it started, as I've already said a handful of times, and would love to recruit you for that journey as well. But, for now, we are with _Obi-Wan_ on Tatooine, so hold tight and fasten your seat belts.

* * *

Remy stepped fully into the barn, turning to check over her shoulder as Ben's form journeyed down into her family's home. He had tossed the tool next to the others on the bike, and watched her for a moment before he'd turned to take his business inside. Only once he'd disappeared into the depths below-ground did she turn around and focus her attention inside the barn.

As the door slid closed behind her, she heard her sister _psst_ her towards the workbench, where she was busy rifling through what looked like credit ignots sorted on a tattered terry cloth. Surprised, Remy checked over her shoulder again as if the door would suddenly produce an intruder. Once satisfied it wouldn't, she hustled over to her sister and slid onto the stool, overcome with curiosity.

She was shocked to find the Republic Ignots categorized nicely into corresponding stacks, Henna intent on counting them. Her eyes moved to and fro as she shuffled the pieces, pausing momentarily to keep a running tally on the datapad to her right. Remy swallowed a breath of air, suddenly hot, and a thousand thoughts blew into her mind like a mighty, winter wind.

She dared to breathe. "What're these?" she hushed quietly, reaching for a stack. They were gleaming under the soft light of the barn, and far too tempting to abandon the idea. Her stomach came alive with buzzing excitement as she went to pick up on of the ignots scrawled in Basic.

Henna slapped her hand away, and she pulled her hand back. "Don't touch them and don't leave fingerprints," she said, producing a hand that was gloved. She wiggled her fingers to emphasize her point.

Remy's brow dropped into a confused crinkle. "Whose are these?"

Henna flew up a hand to silence her. "Shh, Remy. I'm _counting._ "

After a few moments of silence, Henna finally stopped counting and went to adding up the tallies on her datapad. After a minute of calculation, she turned and rested her back against the workbench, her eyes wide and glowing with wonder. Remy looked over her shoulder to gaze at the pad, but Henna quickly turned and began shoving the ignots into the small pouch she'd found them.

"Henna," the younger girl whined, "tell me what's going on," her practiced moan gave Henna paused, though only for a moment, until she started to tie the pouch closed. She dropped them into the pocket of her skirt and grabbed Remy's wrist. She yanked her into one of the animal stalls and pressed a finger to her lips, motioning for the girl to be quiet.

"I found them in the loft," her voice dropped a few octives into a growling whisper and she gestured to the space above their heads with a raised thumb, "Since Papa can't get up there, I'll bet they belong to Maridian. They aren't mine, and I know they aren't yours -"

Remy made a disconcerted face. "They can't be!" She insisted, "We don't have any money –"

Henna frowned at her harshly. "I _know_ that, Remy!" She paused and glanced over the stall's wall towards the barn's door. Content o find nothing out of the ordinary, she patted away a bantha calf who hand wandered over in hopes of food, to add, "She must've been saving them when she was working at the cantina."

Remy went silent for only a moment, nodding her understanding. "What would she be saving them for?" She finally squeaked out the question.

Henna's jaw clamped down. "I don't know," she patted the pouch, "but there's enough Republic credits here to pay off our land and ensure our future." she murmured quietly, before guiding Remy out of the stall. They began to tidy up the barn, each in contemplative thought.

Remy's older sister finally whirled around, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. Within moments, however, her brow hardened into a scowl and something growled in her chest. Remy was afraid momentarily when her sister's eyes flashed a dark, scheming color. She jumped slightly when Henna whirled around to face her.

She growled, "She's been hiding credits from us, all this time," her voice was tinged with anger and simmering with hatred, "while we've been struggling and Papa has been worried about finances, she's been hiding credits!" She threw her hands into the air, exasperated.

Remy recoiled from her sister, but Henna came around, grabbed her by the forearm roughly, and drug her from the barn. The doors closed with a loud _bang_ , and the breeze kicked up a cloud of sand into her face. The granules stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, the sensation familiar. Henna began to drag her towards the speeder parked out front, Ben's own bike not far.

Realizing the machine was broken, Henna changed directions towards the paddock, where a quarter of the bantha enclosure was fenced off to allow room for the family's eopie. Ducking into the enclosure, she rallied two of the animals and gestured to the barn, shooting Remy a glare.

"Go and get a set of bridles and riding blankets," she spat venomously, "and _hurry_!"

Too afraid to respond otherwise, Remy raced to the barn and gathered the supplies with trembling hands. The thoughts of her conversation with Henna buzzed around her brain like an annoying insect. It was hard for her to believe that Maridian would so something as cruel as hide credits from their family. It was difficult to think of such betraying thoughts, as Remy loved Maridian greatly as an older sister. She'd been the only mother she'd ever known. Her heart began to hurt; sinking like a doomed starship in chest to the point where Remy felt like throwing up.

She'd been happy for Maridian since she had announced her engagement to Ben – she'd been excited to see them so happy together. The idea of Maridian marrying Ben set her mind and heart at ease. She'd never seen her older sister so happy, or felt such relief for her. Ben was perfect – at least to Remy – and from what she could see, he would make Maridian a wonderful husband.

But now, she didn't know what to think. Or feel. Or say. It was all a big mess of confusion that she wanted no part in, but something told her she'd have a part in it, regardless of what her heart felt for her oldest sister.

Remy closed the barn, and returned to the paddock with the gear. Slinging it over the fencing, Henna set to roughly readying the animals, mumbling to herself over and over. Remy watched her carefully, noticing the anger that pinched the corner of her sister's eyes and wrinkled her brow in a deep, ugly furrow. She felt justified anger and grief all at once – as if she had to choose between her two sisters, very suddenly. The thought paralyzed her with fear and grabbed the breath out of her lungs like a thief.

As Henna swung up on a mount and guided the other by the reigns to Remy, the young girl had the distinct feeling that Henna had already made her choice.

* * *

News traveled quickly across the desert.

So quickly did it travel, in fact, that when the news of Henna and Remy Hail's travels across the dunes found its way to him through a holocall, Talor Jakkuun was ready and waiting to meet the pair at the oasis not far from the gates of Mos Eisley. He leaned against the ancient vaporizer; foot crossed over the other, a hand in his pocket while the other twirled a wrench over and over to curb his nervous energy.

He'd been out working in the dunes, preparing his vaporizers for the winter journeys to Anchorhead to sell stock and trade wares. They'd needed only minor tinkering – work that could be abandoned in favor of tracking the Hail daughters.

Talor and his lackey friends had heard no word from the bounty hunter stationed on Alderaan – and his patience was waning. He could hardly even fathom going into Mos Eisley or any of the Hutt controlled cities lest he find Jabba or his people there, willing to pound the credits he owed from his body with beating blasts. If he didn't come up with credits to pay his debts soon, there would be nothing the bounty hunter could promise that would save him from the Hutt's wrath. His body ached just thinking about it.

The livery owner kicked his boot through the sand, again to quell nervous energy. He hadn't been able to cast aside the thought of Maridian for days, now. Knowing she was in the arms of Ben Kenobi did little to ease his mind – he was a man that invested a lot in a promise and a handshake, and he'd had a lot more than that with Bartholomew Hail. They'd had an agreement. Bartholomew's renegotiation on that deal had burned him, and Talor was a man that raged when he was hurt – like a cornered, beaten animal. To cross his was not easily forgivable, or forgettable.

A part of him deep inside regretted what he was plotting against Maridian's family. She was, after all, a beautiful and kind girl. He knew that she had a bright future and much to offer a man – to find a woman like her in the desert was rare, and to find one unmarried? That was nearly impossible. At one point, Maridian had been everything he'd ever wanted – and now, she was little more than a nightmare haunting not only his sleep, but his waking hours.

He glanced up at the horizon. There, coming off the dune were two plodding animals, one slightly behind the other, heavy laden with riders. They looked as if they'd keep traversing, but once they caught side of the oasis stop, they angled their mounts towards the vaporizer. Talor squared his shoulders and raised his chin, confident the two riders were the Hail girls.

The first rider dismounted, and given her height, he would've bet it was Henna, the middle daughter of the family. The second came up alongside her left, and she reached out for the bridle of the eopie, to guide it along towards the vaporizer. Neither of them seemed hindered by his presence and parked speeder - or, they were unaware.

His hypothesis was incorrect when they came to a distance where both of them were easily recognized. Henna pulled up the younger girl's mouth quickly, frozen in place and pinning him with a hard glare. Her head wrap was dirty and sweat-marred, not terribly different than the girl who was still mounted's. Both of them locked onto his form with steely eyes, and Talor knew they recognized him.

He pushed himself off the vaporizer. "Well, well," he cooed at them, slipping the tool into the back pocket of his breeches. "If it isn't the Hail clan."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and paraded towards them with his shoulders thrown back, making it painfully obvious that he was mountainous compared to the two of them. The older girl gulped, her face beginning to pale. She shrank back, the animals suddenly restless. They pawed the sand anxiously, shaking their heads. She stilled them with a strong pull.

He leaned against his spreader, an elbow resting on the handle-bar, and cocked them a smirk, "What brings you girls out this way to Mos Eisley? Shouldn't you be home, under your father's watchful eye?" He tried to make his voice drip with taunting sarcasm, "Or does Ben take care of you, now?"

"What is it you want, Mr. Jakkuun?" Henna spat at him, her brow wrinkled in what seemed like a permanent scowl, "We have business in Mos Eisley."

His brow raised, and he snorted. "Oh, ho; business in Mos Eisley? What type of business do you have that wouldn't draw your big sister out of hiding?" He winked at them and chuckled, "Does anyone know you're out and about?"

Henna sneered at him wickedly, with a bite that he would've thought venomous had she been a serpent. "I don't see how that is concern of yours," she stepped back, drawing the animal's with her. Remy clicked her tongue to encourage the animals to move, and maneuvered the other around Henna to take the lead. "Now, if you'll excuse us –"

"Not so fast," with speed almost unheard of, he lunged forward and grabbed Henna by the forearm. She was jerked backwards as he pulled her against his chest, and she screamed, releasing the animal's reign. The eopie shrieked, reared, and took off before the younger girl could react – and her animal had the same response.

She toppled off the animal and hit the sand with a deep _oof,_ before the animal reared again and threatened to pummel her with its hooves. Remy screamed, signaling Talor to whirl around. Unsure of what had happened, he shoved Henna away from him and rushed to collect the animal. He leaped over Remy's squabbling form in the sand, and lunged for the reigns, grabbing them tightly. Reigning the animal in, he settled the animal's nerves.

Remy scrambled up out of the sand with Henna's help, who began brushing her sister of. She whirled on Talor, her eyes mad with anger and fear, and took a step towards him. "Are you crazy?" She screamed at him, "You could've killed her! Stay away from us –"

He snarled at her before lunging for her arm, "Enough of this!" He bellowed, releasing the animal. It backpedaled away from the scene, only to turn and follow its companion into the stretch of desert all around. His hand wrapped around Henna's arm again, and he thrust her towards his body again, effectively holding her in a brace.

Henna screamed and thrashed like a bucking animal, kicking up her feet and beating her hands against his arm, her nails digging paths across his skin even beneath his tunic. He grit his teeth and shuffled her backwards, towards the speeder, until he spotted Remy moving away from the scene. Cursing under his breath, he reached for her, only to have her duck beneath his arm.

With a speed he didn't anticipate, she dipped to the sand and picked up a handful, rising to slap it in his face. Surprised and eyes suddenly burning with the granules in his eyes, he sputtered and staggered backwards, releasing the oldest girl as he did so. Swiping madly at his face with a gloved hand, he managed sight out of one eye.

To his horror, he was bombarded with a barrage of sand thrown in his face from both girls now. He held out a hand to stay the attack, but instead of cessation, Henna rushed him. She threw a sharp kick to his shin, then spun to thrust an elbow into his stomach. Unsure of where he strength came from, he stumbled backward, until a sharp kick between the legs leveled him to his knees, moaning.

He watched through blurry eyes as Henna swung herself over the seat of the speeder, the younger girl quickly mounting behind her. She fired up the bike and throttled the accelerating mechanism until they bolted off in an off-balanced, zig-zagging position back the way they'd come.

Talor, clutching the throbbing heat between his legs, groaned again and let his head fall back into the sand.

* * *

Henna gunned the speeder back towards the family's home, her body racked with heavy sobs laced with sandy, dry air. Her eyes were blurry with tears as she navigated the bike through the dunes, aware that Remy had grown cold and still behind her. Throttling the bike again, she checked the acceleration chamber readout, and found she had already taxed the machine as fast as it could manage.

When they arrived back to the farm, she found the barn open. Taking the incline far too quickly, she pulled back on the throttle, but didn't anticipate the changing gears of the machine. It whined in a high-pitched shriek, trying to correct, and the accelerator chamber reading blinked a warning light and chimed out a klaxon alarm.

She braked, the bike lurched, and they came to a dead stop beside the paddock. Hearing the noise, movement appeared in the barn's doorway, and Ben poked his head out the door to investigate. Finding the source of his investigation, he rushed out of the doors and slammed them closed behind him with little to no effort.

Henna scrambled off the speeder, her foot catching on the running board. She stumbled, but Remy stabled her as she gracefully swung off. Henna's pulse was bounding through her ears. As she collected herself, she noticed that she didn't have to move from her spot, because Ben already had taken her by the arm. He demanded her attention with the concerned face of a father.

"Where have you two been?" He interrogated, "Your lucky your father was not looking for you," When Henna recoiled from him, he released her arm sharply. The speeder seemed to suddenly materialize in his peripheral vision, and he took notice of it.

"Where did this come from?" He questioned, again.

Henna was suddenly without words, her anger at Maridian forgotten. Instead, she wrung her hands nervously and tried not to tremble, Talor's stinging grip still fresh on her arm, and on her conscious. Haunting memories of Maridian's attack flashed through her minds, and the aftermath of her sister's condition made her knees buckle. She'd never really understood the concern between Maridian, Ben and her father about Talor and the broken engagement – and now she did. He was a dangerous man, with terrifying intentions, and a cruel heart.

"It…I…I didn't think –" her words were a stammered conjunction of syllables and vowels, each burning her throat and making her tongue thick and unmanageable, "Talor, he was just there, and I…I didn't know what else to do –"

Ben's eyes widened, and his face blanched white and he took Henna's shoulders in his hands strongly. She winced, and he took pause. Then, he shoved the sleeve of her tunic up to expose the mark Talor's grip had left on her arm.

His face flashed red, and Ben frowned savagely at the mark on her arm. Briefly, Henna was afraid he would react in anger. He stiffened into a somewhat reasonable pillar and pinned her eyes with his own – they were not angry like she imagined, no. Instead, they were collectively calm and valiant. She felt a bolstering heroism as he loosened his grip on her arms and took a knee before her in the sand.

He suddenly didn't look like the Ben she knew at all – he looked much older, and wiser. A rock dropped into her stomach from her throat as she swallowed back a gasp.

"Talor was with you?" He interrogated again, his voice strong and clear. Henna could tell he was trying – and failing – to suppress a growl. "Where were you, Henna?" His eyes searched hers with concern, and Henna could see thoughts of Maridian dancing through his mind. Another horrifying vision of Maridian's bruised and battered body laid out in the back of her mind, and Henna drew her trembling hand to her mouth, as if it would contain the gasp of air that squeaked out of her throat.

She nodded, "Yes," and dropped her eyes from his.

Immediately, Ben rose from his knee, looked towards the house, and pulled her close. She began to sob, regretting all the pent up anger she'd harbored towards her sister in the barn over something as meaningless as Republic credits. He rubbed her back, rested his other arm over Remy's shoulders, and gave her a tight squeeze as he guided them back towards the house.

He tromped down into the house, "Pack your things," he said softly, "we leave for Mos Eisley – tonight ."

* * *

"Maridian!" There was a loud pounding on the door that rattled the wall, "Maridian, please – open the door!"

Jarred from sleep, Maridian rolled over to face the intruder noise erupting from the door. She sat up, threw off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the cot. Her feet brushed the cool floor, and she padded towards the door carefully through the dark room, rubbing her eyes. She was about to reach for the control panel when it suddenly trembled again, the voice growing louder.

"Maridian!" There was a pause, "It's me, Ben. Maridian!"

Her face contorted in concern, "Ben?" she questioned, pounding the control panel with a fist. The doors parted instantly and Obi-Wan rushed inside, followed by the cloaked figures of Remy and Henna. Instantly, the two girls began bustling through room, packing Maridian's things, leaving her to stand dumfounded beside the door.

"Get dressed," Obi-Wan approached her swiftly, taking her by the elbow, "we don't have much time." He brushed aside a curl of her hair from her face and sighed in relief.

Confused, hardly awake, and surprised by his sudden arrival, she steadied him with a hand to each of his shoulders and shook her head. She stifled a yawn and squinted her eyes in the darkness, trying to force herself awake. Obi-Wan was dripping with perspiration, covered in sand, and his pulse was racing. There was movement behind them that sounded like a mechanical whir, and Maridian turned to glance over her shoulder.

Her father sat in the doorway, his chair hovering slowly into the room, dressed in his own tunic and cloak with the hood pulled over his eyes. Ghastly surprised and somewhere between shock and disbelief, her mouth fell open – briefly, Maridian considered that this all was a dream, or at least, a vision from the Force. Her heart began to hammer heavily in her chest, and rubbed her eyes again in a vain attempt to bring clarity to her mind.

"Do as he says, Maridian," her father said softly.

She nodded, and from around the corner of the door Sonika suddenly appeared, dressed; Utarri following behind her. She approached Henna, who pressed a bundle of what appeared to be clothing into her hands, as her Twi'lek friend approached. Taking her by the elbow, she nodded her agreement, and tugged Maridian towards the door.

"Come, Maridian," she said quietly, "I'll help you."

Baffled and afraid, she followed her friend out, only to be led into her and her husband's quarters. When Sonika gestured her to begin stripping, Maridian obeyed, suddenly unsure if she should even ask what was going on. It wouldn't have mattered – her pulse was throbbing so loudly in her ears, she doubted she would've heard anything anyone tried explaining, and her tongue felt heavy and foreign in her mouth. Her mind might as well have been a kaleidoscope of jumbled information, because she felt oddly out of body and without purpose. Every organ seemed crammed into her stomach, and icy pinpricks of pain began to tinge her fingers.

Moments later, Sonika had finished braiding her hair into a loose braid over her shoulder, and was brushing off the shoulders of her dress. Gathering up Maridian's sleeping clothes, she led her back to the room, where her things sat ready beside the door. As Sonika began to pack the remainder of clothing, Henna came up behind her and draped her cloak over her shoulders. Obi-Wan reached to pull the hood over her head, and she grabbed his hand, staying the action. He paused.

A wrinkle of desperation formed on her brow, pulling her features into a worried frown. "Would you mind telling me what's going on, before you whisk me into the night like something out of a holovid?" She demanded, her tone trying, "Please – tell me what's going on, Ben."

He sighed, "It is a telling event," he paused only a moment before his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Your sisters ran into Talor. He was less than courteous."

Maridian went to whirl around on her sisters, but Obi-Wan grabbed her wrist and held her in place. Instead, he pulled her to him and brushed his fingertip along her forehead to upset a strand that had fallen from her braid, his eyes searching hers. She swallowed a gasp, locked in a stare with him. Her stomach tied up in knots of not only worry, but love for him.

He continued, the hood of his cloak casting a shadow across his features from the light outside the door, "Our marriage can't wait, Maridian. The sooner everything is settled and transferred legally, the safer we all will be. If we leave now, we can make Anchorhead by morning."

Her mouth parted as if she was going to reply, but instead she swallowed another breath and nodded her understanding. A thousands suns couldn't have kept her from agreeing with him. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her face into his chest, embracing him tightly. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she nodded again her understanding.

By the time the suns had broken the horizon with light, she had quietly married the exiled Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.


End file.
